Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

✦ ✧︎ ✦

Being vice president hasn’t made Valentina happy.

First, the president tries to drag her image through the mud because he doesn’t want to take the blame for the budget cuts. What a massive son of a bitch. All that man knows how to do is hide in the Oval Office, sitting in that chair with his fat ass, dumping all the shit on her to clean up. God, if Valentina sees that degenerate Peter Parker walking into her office like Tony Stark’s little bitch again, she’s going to throw him out the window - even if she has to rip through the suicide -prevention screen with her bare nails.

Second, people hate her. Valentina blames the president for that too - he simply keeps her in the dark for months and then she finds out, through fucking CNN, that somehow the rural budget was cut by 40%. There are people online organizing protests against this shitty government. Her staff doesn’t let her search herself online, because according to Walker, “self-search isn’t healthy,” and he knows how all the comments would only piss the VP off even more. That’s why politicians aren’t allowed to tweet. But she knows the people aren’t happy with all the taxes and fees. All of this so the First Lady can have a personal hairdresser who charges 50k a month. Pepper is as much of a bitch as Queen Elizabeth - God rest her soul - but Valentina’s not changing her opinion just because the wicked witch of the West is now dead.

The ship is sinking fast. There are whispers in the halls that POTUS is going to be impeached, though Stark is way too egotistical to wave a white flag voluntarily. Valentina isn’t willing to be dragged even further into the mud because of his incompetence.

If Stark gives up, Valentina could run for president next year and take over the government until the election. It would be like taking command of a ship that’s on fire - but at least it would be her burning ship.

It would be like… a golden ticket.

A wet dream.

And Valentina is willing to do anything to get it.

Anything.

To be the first female president.

Better than sex.

Which is the third thing that’s been ruining her sleep.

The last guy she hooked up with was just a dumbass who didn’t even know how to use his dick properly. In the end, Valentina just kicked him out of the bedroom and dealt with it using her pink vibrator. If she were looking for bad sex, she wouldn’t have gotten divorced. She didn’t think it would be so hard to get fucked as the vice president. God, I’m the most important woman in America and I can’t get a fucking orgasm? All those men in Congress are terrible in bed. Not even the old names on her “to-do” list make her legs shake enough to call them back.

Maybe she should look at her college list… What? Reminisce about the time she ate pussy like her life depended on it. All those Yale names, starting with her roommate and ending with all the girls in Kappa. Fuck, she can’t do that - but something near her panties aches just thinking about lying next to a woman again.

But of course, she can’t do that now. She’s the vice president. A public woman. A figure of state. With a PR team and an entire country watching her every move.

She’s not a lesbian. She was married for eight years and woke up every day next to a man. And it wasn’t to prove to her mother that she could do it, of course not.

But fuck, lesbians knew what to do with just one hand. Valentina remembers how Melina, her roommate, used to make her moan so loud that the girls in the dorm next door would bang on the wall. How she knew every sensitive spot on her body better than any man ever dreamed of knowing.

Valentina shakes her head, trying to push those thoughts away. She has an image to uphold, a country to run, and a presidency to win.

But when she closes her eyes at night, it’s not speeches or political strategies that come to mind.

It’s delicate hands and skilled tongues.

And that pisses her off more than any dumbass statement from Stark.

Phillip is not a handsome man, not even attractive. Maybe the best thing about him is that he wears aftershave that smells decent. So Valentina decides to give it a shot because, well, the government may be falling apart, but she’s not doing celibacy or anything like that.

She just hopes no one ruins her morning because her mood is already crap. Bob has been incredibly annoying - as always - clinging to her like a tick on her foot. Of course, she’s not underestimating him. Valentina still needs someone to carry Advil at the end of the day and hold her purse, but she doesn’t even have the patience for her purse boy today.

And then there’s Walker. Well, Walker… is just garbage at his job, but Valentina still won’t fire him because no one runs all of comms like he does - which is already shit, but at least it’s consistent shit. Bucky just arrived, at the president’s request, and Valentina doesn’t like him. But she’s not about to start a war because she can’t stand Tony Stark’s golden boy.

Her team is a combo of incompetent idiots. Maybe the only one who can actually get shit done without messing it up is Ava.

Oh yeah, and there’s also Mel.

Mel is the only person in this shithole who doesn’t flinch when Valentina raises her voice. The only one who has an answer for everything. The only one who can look her in the eyes for more than three seconds without seeming like she’s going to faint or piss herself. The only one who can actually do the job right - and not just right, but perfectly.

She knows she can count on her chief of staff if she needs to work late or kill someone. Mel will always be there for her.

Valentina sees all her eagerness to please and notices how desperate she is to impress. If Valentina told her to shave her legs, Mel would probably ask if she preferred wax or razor. If Valentina told her to kneel in her office for hours organizing documents, she’s sure Mel would do it without question.

And that’s… problematic.

Mel is a problem.

Because when she walks into the room with those perfectly tailored suits and that small, confident smile, Valentina feels something she shouldn’t feel for a subordinate.

Something she shouldn’t feel for a woman.

Something she definitely shouldn’t feel when she’s trying to stay politically relevant.

Again, she’s not a lesbian. She had a husband for eight years, for God’s sake.

She cannot think about fucking her young chief of staff.

No, that would be worse than the Monica Lewinsky scandal. Worse than Anthony Weiner. Worse than any shit that’s ever happened in this corrupt government.

It would be the end of her political career.

The end of her presidential dreams.

It would be...

It would probably be the hottest thing she’s ever done in her life.

She’s sure Mel would spend hours with her tongue wrapped inside her, would grind her pants against Valentina’s nylon-covered legs. Mel definitely doesn’t have an ego that big - she doesn’t know what her team does after hours, but she wonders if Mel would know how to touch a woman like her without shaking with nerves. Because Valentina would dig her fingers into those coiled curls like an absolute abuse of power.

It could be-

“Ma’am, John Kerrigton is here.” Ava interrupts her train of thought.

Valentina sighs as she keeps her fingers tapping on the mahogany desk. She had completely forgotten she scheduled a meeting with one of those online-famous Protestant blowhards. Bucky said it would be perfect for people to see that she’s not supporting the president, but also not going against the government. Valentina still doesn’t know which side Bucky’s on - maybe just his own - but she accepted because it seemed smarter than any of Walker’s ideas.

“Send him in.” Valentina adjusts the hem of her dress. “Did the president call?”

“No, ma’am.” Ava closes the door, and Valentina doesn’t look pleased when she sees two men in Protestant T-shirts walking through her door. Great, he brought a little friend. But she puts on her best smile.

“John Kerrigton.” She stands, extending her hand. “What a pleasure to have you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Vice President.” John starts talking. “We’ve been trying to reach the president for weeks, but he refuses to take any of our calls.”

Well, at least she wasn’t the only one trying to reach that idiot.

“And you are...?” She points to the older man, who looks like he hasn’t showered in a week.

“Matthew. I help John organize all the protests.” He shakes her hand with dirty, calloused fingers. Valentina is definitely using hand sanitizer the second they leave.

“Okay... Matthew... I see you.” Valentina forces a smile. “How about we sit?”

Another hour trapped in hell.

After a few torturous minutes listening to how unhappy the people are with the government, Valentina finally got rid of those windbags. She just hopes this somehow improves her image - otherwise, she’s dooming Bucky to eternal suffering.

Now she was lying on the couch in her office, head thrown back, feeling pathetically frustrated with everything going on. Her schedule was a shot in the dark, the president was still a coward, and she still had to remember to call her daughter at some point.

God bless America and all the idiots who live in it.

Valentina closed her eyes, massaging her temples. She could feel a migraine coming on, and she still had two more meetings before the day was over.

Outside, she could hear the usual chaos from her team.

Bob approached the door.

“She doesn’t want to be disturbed,” Ava said before he could push it open. Valentina didn’t even need to look up to know Bob was pouting with his lips pressed tight and looking down while holding her handbag, which now had a book compartment. That’s where he keeps Valentina’s extra shoes.

“I could-”

“No.” Ava adjusted her glasses. “Find something else to do, Bob.”

He won’t. Bob sat down like a sad puppy while Walker typed something on the computer with two fingers, as always.

“Almost done.” Walker said. “God, I didn’t think writing a speech about agricultural policy would be this hard.”

“It’s not hard - you just don’t know how to type.” Bucky appeared out of nowhere. “Ava, I need to speak with the Vice President right now.”

“Not happening.” Ava said firmly. “She’s busy.”

Valentina was still in the same position. In total despair on the couch. Not busy.

“She needs to drink her juice.” Bob pulled the little carton from the bag.

“Stop poisoning the VP with that crap, Bob.” Bucky scoffed. “She has to give a speech later today.”

"This isn't crap. It's a nutritionist-approved recipe-"

"Blah blah blah blah." Walker interrupted without even looking up from the keyboard.

"Walker, you're an idiot." Bob replied.

"You're all idiots." Ava muttered, organizing papers.

The door opened, and everyone stopped talking at the same time. Valentina appeared in the doorway, arms crossed.

"Ma’am-" Bucky began.

"Where's Mel?" Valentina cut him off, scanning the room like she was looking for the only functional person in the place.

"She's not here." Ava replied.

"Well, then tell her to get her ass in here. Now." Valentina slapped the doorframe.

"Ma’am-" Bucky tried again.

"Your juice!" Bob jumped from his chair.

"Fuck that shitty juice, Robert!" Valentina exploded, slapping the carton out of his hand. The green liquid splashed onto the floor and all over Bob’s shirt. "I don't want your grass juice! I want my chief of staff!"

She went back inside, slamming the door so hard everyone flinched.

"She’s not having a good morning." Ava said without looking up from her papers. "Unless you have long hair and a pair of skirts, she’s not letting you in." 

Bucky huffed, clearly annoyed by the remark.

Mel walked into the office at that moment, of course, eyes on her phone, typing quickly as she moved. She was wearing a dark gray suit that fit her perfectly, and her hair was pulled back into a flawless bun.

"Sorry I’m late," she said, tucking away her phone and finally looking at the team. "I was handling the press about the president’s CNN comments."

"What comments?" Bucky asked, alarmed.

"Oh, you didn’t see?" Mel gave a nervous smile. "He said the Vice President is ‘doing a fantastic job’ and that he ‘fully trusts her leadership.’"

"Shit." Bucky muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Is that good or bad?"

"He’s trying to throw her off the boat." Walker mumbled, finally showing he had at least half a working brain cell.

"Shut up, Walker." Mel said without even looking at him. "Ava, you said she wanted to see me."

"Wait, Mel." Bucky stopped her. "Could you please tell her I need to talk to her about the speech? It's urgent."

"That’s your job." Mel replied. "What? Playing fair is too hard for you?"

"Look, I know you two have... a special relationship..." Bucky began, choosing his words carefully.

"A professional relationship." Mel corrected.

"Sure." Bucky said, unconvinced. "But she literally screamed at all of us and only wants to see you."

"Maybe it’s because I’m the only one here who does their job right." Mel shot back.

"Or maybe." Walker murmured. "It’s because you’re the only one here she wants to-"

"Finish that sentence and you’ll find out what it’s like to work at McDonald’s." Mel cut him off.

Bob, who had been wiping down his shirt, froze. Ava looked up from her papers.

"Bucky." Mel continued, returning to her professional tone. "If you want to talk to her, learn to do your job without needing to pay someone to do it for you."

She knocked on the office door.

"You guys think she’d go out with me?" Bucky stared at Mel from behind, and everyone rolled their eyes.

"What?" he said defensively.

"Madam Vice President? I have updates on the press situation."

The door opened immediately, like Valentina had been standing right behind it.

"Come in." Valentina said, noticeably calmer and more composed. She didn’t fail to notice what Mel was wearing or how good she looked in that suit and slightly loose white blouse tucked at the waist.

"The president-" Mel began, organizing the folders in her arms.

"Fuck that asshole." Valentina interrupted, standing up from the couch. "I didn’t call you in here for that."

"No?" Mel paused, clearly confused. She was used to Valentina’s mood swings, but this was different.

"No." Valentina stepped closer, her eyes scanning Mel’s body in a not-at-all subtle way. "I have a date tonight."

"Huh?" Mel blinked, processing. "A date? With who? That’s not on your schedule."

"It’s not, because I just decided it." Valentina said, now standing right in front of her. "Phillip."

"Phillip?" Mel frowned. "The foreign policy advisor? Madam Vice President, he’s not exactly..."

"Not exactly what?" Valentina tilted her head with that smile she wore when she was about to do something she knew was inappropriate.

"Well." Mel chose her words carefully, adjusting the folders in her arms like a shield. "He’s not exactly your intellectual caliber."

Valentina knows that. She knows Phillip is an idiot who can barely form a coherent sentence without consulting his notes.

"My intellectual caliber?" Valentina laughed. "Mel, darling, I’m not looking for intellectual stimulation. Maybe a different kind of stimulation."

"O-oh, okay." Mel swallowed hard, her eyes widening slightly. "I don’t see how I can help with that."

"You’re coming with me."

"What?" Mel almost dropped her phone.

"I need someone to interrupt the dinner in case things get... boring." Valentina explained, stepping closer. "Or if I need an excuse to leave early."

"Ma’am, can’t Bob do that?" Mel asked, her voice more desperate than intended.

Bob could do that. But Valentina didn’t want his company tonight. She didn’t want Bob staring at her like a lost puppy when she started smoking, or handing her napkins every five minutes. She just needed someone who wouldn’t get on her nerves for even a second.

"Yes, but I prefer you." Valentina said, watching how Mel tensed slightly. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"Of course not." Mel replied quickly - maybe too quickly. "I-"

Valentina didn’t let her finish.

"Seven o’clock." Valentina said finally, turning away and going back to her desk.

"Madam Vice President-"

"It wasn’t a question, Mel."

She nodded, agreeing silently, her hands gripping the folders tighter than necessary.

Right. Chief of Staff Mel had just been downgraded to babysitting the Vice’s dates.

Great.

Just fantastic.

That guy, Phillip? He was a jackass.

And Valentina was going out with him.

Mel knew she shouldn’t care. It was just work, right? She was a professional. It didn’t matter if Valentina wanted to stoop to dating mediocre men who probably didn’t know the difference between foreign and domestic policy.

But why the hell was she caring so much?

Mel stopped in the middle of the hallway, taking a deep breath. She had no right to feel... jealous? That was ridiculous. Valentina was her boss. Period.

“Shit.” Mel murmured, leaning against the wall.

She was jealous.

Not that she would admit it.

And the worst part? She was going to have to watch it all happen.

“Mel?” Ava appeared in the hallway. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine.” Mel lied, straightening up. “Just... processing some information.”

“Hm, okay.” Ava returned to the secretary’s desk.

At least Bob would be sad to know Valentina chose Mel over him.

That would probably keep him up at night for a few days.

At the end of the day, Mel found herself sitting beside Valentina in the back seat of the official limousine, trying to focus on her notes. Valentina looked gorgeous as always, which made Mel sneak a discreet glance at the vice president’s dress - a dark red number that hugged every curve perfectly - and her legs crossed elegantly on the leather seat.

What had men done to deserve all this? Maybe she should just drop it and focus on not letting Stark drag Valentina’s name through the mud.

“Mel?” Valentina’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“Yes, ma’am?” Mel wasn’t paying attention but still pretended to close her folder and look at her, trying to seem professional.

“What do you think of my dress?” Valentina asked, and there was something in the tone of her voice that made Mel swallow hard.

“Huh...” Mel blinked, processing the question. Her cheeks warmed as she realized she’d been caught staring. “I... it’s very pretty, ma’am.”

“Pretty?” Valentina repeated, tilting her head slightly. “Just pretty?”

Mel felt her mouth go dry. “It’s... perfect. Elegant. Very appropriate for a dinner.”

“Well, I just hope it’s all worth it.” Valentina took a step closer, adjusting the dress with deliberate movements that made Mel notice every curve accentuated by the fabric. “I don’t want to waste my time with another man who doesn’t know how to use his own dick.”

Mel swallowed dryly, trying to look back at the papers.

“And you?” Valentina asked, leaning forward slightly, invading Mel’s personal space. “I hope I didn’t interfere with any plans.” She paused, her eyes sparkling with mischievous amusement. “Although I don’t really care. But I still like to pull you out of your comfort zone.”

“O-oh no, ma’am.” Mel managed to murmur, avoiding the piercing gaze. “Everything’s fine.”

“Well, thanks for coming with me, Mel.” Valentina let her fingers brush lightly over Mel’s arm as she passed by - a touch that seemed casual but lasted a second longer than necessary. “It’s always nice to have some female company. Although I think Bob can be more feminine than me.”

Mel nodded with a nervous laugh, still feeling the lingering heat where Valentina’s fingers had grazed her arm.

This was going to be hard.

At the restaurant, she headed straight to the bar, choosing a strategic spot with a clear view of the table where Valentina would be seated. She placed her purse on the chair next to her - a subtle barrier against anyone who might try to get close - and opened her folder again on the counter. The pages were neatly spread out - the perfect excuse to be there, working, even if all she could think about was how Valentina’s scent still seemed to cling to her clothes from their time in the car.

“Maybe just a glass of wine.” she murmured to the bartender, ordering something light. She was still working, after all, acting as the vice president’s babysitter who was now sitting at one of the back tables with Phillip.

Mel frowned from the moment she saw that man sneaking in to kiss Valentina’s cheek.

Something unpleasant twisted in her stomach.

Phillip was like any congress snake - opportunistic, always eyeing the next connection that could elevate him in the political hierarchy. Mel didn’t doubt for a second that he was using Valentina to try to get to the president.

Ugh.

Mel took a sip of her wine, discreetly watching over the rim of the glass. She really hoped Valentina would make some kind of sign - any sign - that she needed her to interrupt the dinner and put that disgusting man far away from her. Anything that would justify Mel marching over there and inventing some urgent political emergency to get her away from that redheaded scarecrow.

But for now, all she could do was watch Phillip gesture animatedly, clearly trying to impress with his stories while Valentina kept a polite smile on her face and sipped her white wine.

Mel could make her laugh more than that idiot. Even though Walker always said she had no sense of humor... well, she could try. At least she knew Valentina well enough to know exactly what kind of joke would make her laugh, unlike that clown who probably thought telling golf anecdotes was the height of comedy.

Alright, no more wine.

She put the glass down on the counter harder than she intended.

She wasn’t fantasizing about being in Phillip’s place.

Or was she?

Mel shook her head nervously, trying to push those thoughts away, then looked back at Valentina. That’s when she noticed - Valentina was nervously running her hand behind her ear. One, two, three times. Oh yes, the sign. Valentina wanted Mel to interrupt the dinner now.

God, Bob would be so much better at reading these subtle signs. Mel definitely wasn’t cut out for this kind of service - she always took too long to notice Valentina’s nonverbal cues, unlike the assistant who seemed to read her mind.

“Ma’am.” she approached the table with firm, confident steps. “The president... he’s calling.”

It was a lie, but it seemed enough. Mel could now look Phillip in the eye up close and was relieved Valentina wasn’t going to sleep with a man who ordered sliced zucchini to eat. Seriously, who the hell orders zucchini at a fancy restaurant?

“I’m sorry, Phillip.” Valentina said, already standing with practiced elegance. “You know how it is...”

“It’s fine, after all, it’s the President of the United States,” Phillip replied, forcing a political smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Duties of the office, I completely understand.”

Valentina was already striding ahead with determined steps, her heels echoing on the restaurant’s marble floor, while Mel followed a few steps behind.

“Will you call me later?” Phillip shouted after them, but Valentina pretended not to hear, keeping up her brisk pace as they crossed the lobby and exited the establishment.

In the car, as soon as the doors closed, Valentina let out a long sigh and flopped into the back seat.

“God, that guy was a complete dick.” she said, running her hands through her hair in frustration. “I can’t believe I sat in front of a man for an hour and a half listening to him puke that pro-life shit. Like I don’t have better things to do.”

“He really did seem like a complete dick.. ma’am.” Mel agreed, fastening her seatbelt and trying to hide the relief in her voice.

“The president really...?” Valentina asked, turning to Mel with a raised eyebrow, though she already knew the answer.

“No, ma’am.” Mel admitted, her cheeks blushing slightly. “Sorry, I couldn’t think of something more creative at the moment. But you made the sign...”

“Thank God you noticed.” Valentina murmured, resting her head on the seat. “Five more minutes and I would’ve thrown my wine in his face.”

“The reporters would have loved to capture that moment.” Mel said, thinking how much that could damage the vice president’s image even more. The press was already on top of every move Valentina made, waiting for any slip-up that could make headlines. “I could do that for you, if you want.”

Valentina gave a small genuine smile: “Thank you, Mel.”

Soon the car fell silent again, only the sound of the engine and Washington’s nighttime traffic filling the space between them. Back at the White House, no sex, a perfect dress, and perfectly done hair - exactly how she’d left hours before. Valentina could hardly wait to get to her room, lie in bed, and spend the last moments of the day with a bottle of wine and her vibrator, as usual. At least one thing tonight wouldn’t disappoint her.

In her quarters, Valentina sighed deeply, kicking off her heels and throwing herself on the bed without ceremony. Mel was still standing near the door, watching her - still holding Valentina’s coat in her hands and with her purse already ready to go home.

“Ma’am, do you need me for anything else?” Mel asked, her voice hesitant, as if unsure whether she should leave or stay.

“Can you help me get out of this dress?” Valentina sighed, her voice coming out lower and more tired than she intended.

Mel nodded, carefully placing the bag and coat on the chair before stepping closer. Valentina slowly stood up, pulling her hair back with deliberate movements, exposing the delicate nape of her neck and leaving the zipper visible.

Mel approached from behind, her fingers finding the small zipper pull. She lightly brushed her fingers over the skin exposed above the fabric before beginning to pull, the soft, hesitant touch making Valentina’s body tremble involuntarily.

Valentina was sensitive from the lack of touch on her body, almost needy. Every brush of Mel’s fingertips against her skin seemed amplified, sending waves of heat down her spine. Mel’s hands were like velvet against her warmed skin, pulling the dress down with a delicacy that made her want to lean back.

Valentina’s eyes closed for a moment, and she allowed herself to dream. Imagining what it would be like if those hands didn’t stop at the zipper, if they kept exploring, if Mel wasn’t her subordinate and she wasn’t the Vice President of the United States.

She wasn’t a lesbian, but maybe female loneliness was worse than male loneliness.

Women understood what other women needed in ways men never could.

“Mel?” her voice came out as a whisper.

“Hm?” Mel replied, her hands still hesitating at the base of the zipper, as if waiting for further instructions. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Vice President?”

Valentina turned to look at her, her dark eyes fixed on Mel’s with an intensity that made Mel swallow hard.

Silence reigned between them, thick with expectation.

What was Mel waiting for her to do? To throw her onto the bed and sit on her face? Because that was exactly what she needed right now.

“You can...” Valentina paused, letting the tension build. “You can help me take off my pantyhose too?”

Mel nodded obediently, stepping back and bending down. Valentina sat at the edge of the bed, watching the handful of black hair lowered to the same height as her legs. There was something deeply satisfying about seeing Mel in that position - submissive, willing, waiting for her orders.

Mel carefully pulled down the pantyhose, her fingers brushing Valentina’s calf before grasping her legs with both hands. The deliberate, slow touch made Valentina let out a small approving moan.

“Good girl.” Valentina murmured, feeling power flow through her. “Now take them all the way off.”

Mel obeyed without hesitation, pulling the pantyhose down completely.

“And my panties.” Valentina said next, her voice taking on a commanding tone that left no room for questions.

Mel understood perfectly. Instead of pulling the dress off, she slid it aside and slipped two fingers inside the Vice President’s entrance, already wet and ready for her.

Valentina’s head arched back, a sigh of pure pleasure escaping her lips.

“That’s it.” she whispered, one hand automatically finding Mel’s hair, her fingers tangling in the dark strands. “You know exactly how to please me, don’t you?”

A hoarse moan escaped Valentina’s mouth, but not loud enough for anyone to hear. Mel moved her fingers with precision - she was really doing it.

Fucking the Vice President.

The most important woman in the country.

Mel just wanted to please her. It was her job to keep Valentina satisfied. If the Vice wasn’t happy, then Mel wasn’t doing her job.

“Faster... faster, Mel.” Valentina ordered, her voice rough but firm. “You can do better than that.”

Mel increased her movements - Valentina was tight, being inside her and feeling her fingers swallowed by her pussy certainly made a wetness grow in Mel’s panties at that moment. She didn’t stop, obeying the orders and continuing with even quicker movements.

A man certainly wouldn’t know what to do with all this.

A man would never manage-

Valentina woke up abruptly.

The room was dark and silent. Her heart was pounding, her breath uneven, and a burning frustration coursed through her veins. Fuck. It was just a dream. A dream so real she could still feel the ghost of Mel’s fingers on her skin.

“Ma’am?” Mel knocked on the door, her voice muffled by the wood. “I’m heading home now, do you need anything else?”

Valentina closed her eyes tightly, fighting the wave of disappointment that hit her like a punch to the gut. She had passed out the moment she got back from that stupid date and had an erotic dream about her chief of staff. The wetness between her legs was a puddle at that moment.

What the fuck. How was she going to look at Mel tomorrow knowing exactly how her perverted mind imagined her on her knees?

“No, Mel, see you tomorrow.” Valentina answered, forcing her voice to sound normal.

Mel nodded on the other side of the door, her footsteps fading down the hall.

“Fuck.” Valentina murmured, placing one hand between her legs, feeling how wet she was because of a stupid dream.

That was definitely going to be a job for her vibrator, again.

Chapter Text

Mel loves her job.

Most people would say working with politicians is a nightmare - and, in general, if they’re men, yes - but she genuinely loves working for the Vice President. Valentina is… almost everything in her life. A constant presence that fills every thought, every breath. Valentina is everything. Mel spends 150 hours a week by her side, which amounts to nearly an entire week, leaving little time for anything else. She sleeps only six hours a night, and even less when she's up late working through Capitol Hill midnight sessions.

Mel isn’t complaining in the slightest; she doesn’t have many friends outside of work... maybe her ex? Yeah, she still keeps in touch with Claire, because despite the breakup, they sometimes go out for drinks at discreet Georgetown bars.

She’s not hiding her sexuality or anything - she likes women and men, always has. She’s just not as... socially active as Bucky, who seems to collect romantic conquests like trophies. Her dating history isn’t even long enough to become a whisper down the West Wing. She prefers to keep her personal life away from Washington’s spotlight.

There was that time Senator Russell got caught at a gay bar in Dupont Circle and, luckily, the comms team managed to bury it before it made headlines. Mel is just the Vice President’s chief of staff; she doesn’t believe that if she were seen holding hands with another woman, it would end up in some sleazy tabloid. It’s 2025, after all - she’s not hiding in the closet like she used to in college. She just isn’t important enough to spark media interest.

But Valentina is important. Valentina is all Mel breathes from the moment she opens her eyes to the moment she finally falls asleep. The admiration pounding in her chest - along with all the other confusing, intense feelings she has when she’s near the VP - is something hard to contain when all she wants is to please her.

She collects compliments like precious coins.

If Valentina’s in a good mood, she’ll say Mel did a good job, and those simple words make Mel’s heart race like she’s just run a marathon. If Valentina’s feeling warm, she’ll pinch her cheeks with that devastating smile and call her “good girl” - a compliment that makes Mel melt inside, even if she tries to keep her professional composure. If Valentina’s having a particularly presidential day, she’ll let Mel call her “Val” at least once on the clock, a privilege Mel guards like a sacred treasure.

That’s what she does.

She reads every document with obsessive care.

She anticipates solutions before problems even arise.

She finds ways to make Valentina’s life easier.

Approval.

That’s all she’s chasing, all that matters.

At the end of the day, all she cares about is whether the Vice President is happy enough to sleep well at night.

Mel monitors every facial expression, every sigh, every movement of Valentina’s hands like a dedicated scholar decoding a sacred text.

She would do anything to make Valentina happy.

If Val asked her to assassinate President Stark, Mel would’ve already found a way to make it look like an accident. She’s never been religious or into saints, but she would kneel and pray for Valentina like she was her personal goddess.

Every command is a commandment, every smile a blessing, every casual touch a revelation.

"Obviously you wouldn’t complain if that woman put a collar on you." That’s what Natasha says, and while Mel knows she’s not being serious, the truth is that she really wouldn’t complain. She doesn’t like how much her brain insists on thinking about it, but the thought lingers like a constant shadow in her mind.

The Vice President is beautiful. Mel thinks she’s beautiful. Maybe more than that? Attractive would be the more accurate word - an attraction that goes beyond the physical, extending to the way Valentina commands a room, how her presence shifts the air around her.

Phillip was a total idiot and she’s relieved Valentina finally saw it. If Valentina wanted, Mel could do every job a man does - and probably better.

She needs to bury all these fantasies and this possible crush on her boss and Vice President of America before it derails everything.

Valentina is a straight woman and older than her.

Maybe it’s just her inner orphan screaming for attention and validation. No, fuck that pathetic psychoanalysis - all she needs to do is focus on doing her job before Stark completely sinks the administration with his incompetence.

Today is a particularly cold day in D.C. Mel chooses to wear skirts despite the brutal weather - all she has wrapped around her is a cashmere scarf and a wool coat that barely shields her from January’s biting wind. But she knows Valentina appreciates when she dresses well, and that alone is enough motivation to endure the cold.

“Hey, Mel.” Bucky approaches as she rushes down the West Wing hallway. “Did you see the news?”

“Yes, I’m always on top of the news, Bucky.” She cuts him off sharply, not slowing her pace.

Her thoughts on him? Mel absolutely hates him with every fiber of her being. She begged Valentina not to add him to the team - but of course she did it just to appease the president. Bucky is an opportunistic bastard, playing both sides of the political spectrum - he just follows whichever way the wind blows and will never be truly loyal. Not like her. She’d even say Walker, with all his mediocrity, is more tolerable than him.

“So you know people love Valentina, right?” Bucky walks beside her, clearly proud of himself.

“Mmh, what are you trying to say?” Mel slows her pace slightly.

“My plan.” Bucky gestures dramatically, like he’s presenting to an audience. “The Vice President embracing those poor farm protesters in Iowa. People are making memes and calling her the next Gandhi.”

Mel feels a twinge of irritation mixed with something dangerously close to jealousy. “You know tweets won’t clean up the mess this administration’s made, right?”

“It’s better than having people think she’s aligned with this corrupt government.” Bucky counters, adjusting his expensive tie with a smug smile. “At least now she has her own identity, separate from the Stark disaster.”

“People could see her as a direct traitor to the president.” Mel stops walking. “Did you think about the consequences? If Stark finds out she’s deliberately distancing herself from him-”

“Can you please, just once, admit that I won?” Bucky interrupts, crossing his arms. “I know you’re her favorite girl, but all you’re doing is following orders like an obedient puppy.”

The insult hits her hard. Mel feels the blood rush to her cheeks but forces her voice to remain calm.

“I’m doing my job, Bucky. Maybe you should worry more about the long-term implications instead of chasing cheap wins on social media.”

“Cheap wins?” Bucky laughs loudly, his voice echoing through the hallway. “Mel, sweetheart, politics is about perception. And right now, the perception is that Valentina is a compassionate and independent leader. That’s worth more than any strategy you might’ve scribbled in your cute little notebooks.”

“Don’t call me ‘sweetheart’. Mel hits his chest hard enough to make him take a step back. “You’re an asshole.”

“This asshole could take your job.” Bucky replies with a smirk.

Mel leaves him talking to himself in the hallway, rolling her eyes and walking away in quick strides. Fuck it, she’s not going to fall for the provocations of a man who wears aftershave like perfume. She opens Twitter on her phone-not her main account, but a secondary one she uses for monitoring-and searches Valentina’s name. Bucky’s plan is irresponsible and could blow the entire White House into a political crisis. She shouldn’t have let this happen, knowing it’s only a matter of time before all this shit splashes back on Valentina.

The trending topics confirm her worst fears: #ValentinaGandhi is at the top, followed by #VPOfThePeople and #NotMyPresident.

Every tweet is a ticking time bomb.

“Hey, Mel.” Valentina calls as she enters the office. She has no idea why Bob is kneeling on the floor, but she doesn’t ask.

“Ma’am.” Mel replies automatically, putting away her phone and shifting into her professional posture.

“Get off the floor, Bob. No one’s enjoying the view your ass is providing.” Valentina says in that dry tone that makes Mel suppress a smile.

“Sorry, I’ll try to find your earring later.” Bob stands up, defeated, straightening his wrinkled shirt.

“Forget it, Bob. I have others.” Valentina waves him off and then turns to Mel with that penetrating gaze that always makes her heart race. “Mel, have you seen the news?”

“Ma’am, I-” Mel can’t finish the sentence, her stomach tightening with anxiety.

“It’s amazing, right?” Valentina steps closer with a radiant smile that lights up the whole office. “People love me! My approval ratings jumped twenty points since yesterday.”

“I don’t think that’s amazing, ma’am.” Mel swallows hard. “People might start linking you directly to President Stark when the honeymoon is over. This could blow back on us.”

“Oh, Mel, you’re always worried about something.” Valentina shakes her head with that condescending smile that makes Mel feel both irritated and weak in the knees. “Just breathe and let all that anxiety shit out of you. God, you need orgasms more than I do.”

Mel stays silent, her cheeks burning.

“Anyway, I have a dinner with Senator Rogers tonight, and I need you in my room in two minutes to help me pick out a dress.”

“Ma’am, I can help-” Bob offers timidly, clearly desperate to redeem himself.

“No, go back to looking for my earring.” Valentina cuts him off bluntly, not even glancing his way. “Mel’s helping me today.”

Bob lowers his head, clearly wounded, while Mel feels a guilty wave of satisfaction at being the chosen one. She hates how special she feels when Valentina picks her for intimate tasks like this.

“Five minutes, Mel. Don’t make me wait.” Valentina heads into her private room.

“Please don’t let her pick the Armani.” Bob approaches Mel with desperation in his eyes. “It’s not flattering on her-especially around the hips.”

“I don’t know what any of those words mean, Bob.”

“Just pick the black one when she asks between red and black.” Bob whispers urgently. “Red makes her look too aggressive for Senator Rogers. He’s conservative, you know.”

Mel nods, trying to store the information even while her brain is still processing Valentina’s previous comment about orgasms.

Because the Vice President hasn’t yet realized how serious the social media situation is, but Mel tries to follow her advice and breathe as she pushes the door to the private room. She blushes violently when she sees Valentina is topless, wearing only a black lace bra, her hair falling loose over bare shoulders.

“Sorry, ma’am-I-” Mel stammers, frozen at the door.

“Oh, come on, Mel. We’re both women.” Valentina says casually, not even turning to look at her. “Just get over here and help me put this damn dress on.”

Mel nods, moving quickly but with shaky legs. She picks up the black dress Bob had recommended, her hands trembling slightly as she holds the silky fabric.

“You okay? You’re red.” Valentina approaches, turning to her with the kind of ease that makes Mel even more nervous.

“I’m fine, ma’am.” Mel lies, trying to focus on the dress and not on how close Valentina’s body is, or the scent rising from her warm skin.

“Good. Now help me with the zipper.” Valentina raises her arms, expecting Mel to slip the dress over her head. “And stop calling me ma’am when we’re alone. You’ve known me long enough to use my name.”

Mel swallows hard, her hands finding the hem of the dress. “Yes… Valentina.” She pauses, testing the limits. “Val.”

She watches closely to see how Valentina reacts to the nickname-and it’s a slow, satisfied smile that spreads across the Vice President’s face. Mel wonders if she knows the effect she’s having, if it’s intentional or if she’s genuinely unaware of the chaos she’s creating in Mel’s heart.

“Much better.” Valentina murmurs, sending a shiver down Mel’s spine. She manages to get the dress on next, forcing her hands not to tremble. Just focus, Mel. God, you’re a gay mess. Like a virgin who just watched But I’m a Cheerleader.

The fabric slides smoothly over Valentina’s body. Mel tries not to notice how the dress hugs her curves perfectly, how it accentuates her neckline, how it makes her eyes seem even more intense.

Valentina turns to look in the mirror, and the dress looks tailor-made. Bob was right-the black one was definitely the right choice.

“You look beautiful, Val.” Mel manages to say, her voice only slightly hoarse. “Rogers is going to have a heart attack.”

“I hope he does.” Valentina replies with a predatory smile that makes Mel feel both turned on and on edge.

“Can I go now?” Mel asks, desperate for some fresh air. “Natasha wants to see the fundraiser budget and-”

“No.” Valentina cuts her off. “I still need to pick a lipstick. Sit down, I’m sure Natasha can handle a few numbers on her own.”

Mel sits on the soft leather couch, her hands automatically smoothing her skirt over her thighs. The private room feels intimate-soft lighting, expensive furniture, and the lingering scent of Valentina’s perfume in the air.

“You work for me, right, Mel?” Valentina asks casually, still studying her reflection in the mirror.

“Yes, Ma’am-Val.” Mel quickly corrects herself, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

“And exclusively for me.” Valentina says as she picks up two lipsticks and walks toward the couch with calculated steps. “You’re like... my sexy assistant.”

“You think I’m… sexy?” Mel asks, her voice lower and raspier than she meant.

“These skirts do a damn fine job on your ass.” Valentina replies with that tender smile that makes Mel’s stomach twist. “Now tilt your head back.”

“Mm?”

Mel does exactly as told, leaning her head back on the soft couch. Valentina then moves, climbing on top of her and straddling her lap. Mel doesn’t know what’s happening-but her heart is pounding so loudly she’s sure Valentina can hear it. The warmth of the Vice President’s body over hers, the delicate but undeniable weight, the closeness that makes every breath feel deliberate.

She can see Valentina’s face up close-every individual lash, every pore of perfect skin, every microexpression that flits through her dark eyes. Valentina’s hair falls like a curtain around Mel’s face, creating a private world just for the two of them. Mel tries to stay calm, but her breathing is fast and her hands are trembling slightly.

Valentina uncaps the red lipstick with a precise flick and applies it to her lips, her eyes never leaving Mel’s face. The motion is hypnotic-the color spreading evenly, turning her lips into something even more tempting and dangerous.

Then, without warning, Valentina leans in and kisses her cheek. The touch is soft but firm, leaving a red mark on Mel’s skin. The contact sends a full-body shiver through Mel, waves of heat pulsing through her like liquid fire.

“Val-” Mel whispers, her voice faltering.

“Be quiet, Mel.” Valentina orders softly, her warm breath against Mel’s ear. “I need to see how the lipstick color looks on your skin.”

Mel obeys, closing her eyes and trying to control her breathing while she feels Valentina’s weight on top of her, the enveloping perfume, the proximity that’s making her brain short-circuit.

Again, she feels another kiss on her face-this time on the other cheek. She keeps her eyes closed for a moment, and when she opens them, Valentina is smiling as she examines both colors on her skin, like an artist inspecting her work.

“The nude is definitely the better choice,” Valentina murmurs, tilting her head to assess the effect. “More subtle, more… elegant.”

Mel thinks it’s over, but then Valentina applies the chosen nude lipstick on her own lips and leans in again. This time, she kisses Mel at the corner of her mouth-a touch that isn’t quite a kiss, but almost. Mel can feel the creamy texture of the lipstick, the soft, warm pressure of Valentina’s lips on her skin. It’s far too intimate and sets every cell in her body on fire.

Then, as if nothing had happened, Valentina rises gracefully and tosses her a tissue.

“Wipe it off,” she says casually, already walking back toward the mirror.

What the fuck just happened? Mel doesn’t move for several seconds, only reaching for the tissue with trembling hands. Before wiping it off, she checks herself in her phone camera-her cheek stained and a clear lipstick mark on the corner of her lips.

“D-do you need me for anything else, ma’am?” Mel manages to say, her voice coming out raspier than she intended.

“Ma’am-” Bob opens the door without knocking and then stops abruptly. “What happened to your face?”

Mel feels the blood drain from her face as Bob stares at her.

“Robert, come here. I need you to finish my makeup,” Valentina says, not the least bit concerned. “Thank you, Mel. You can go now.”

“I…” Bob hesitates, glancing between Mel and Valentina with growing confusion. “Ma’am, were you two… testing makeup without me?” he says with a note of hurt in his voice.

“Yes, Bob. Mel has a prettier skin tone than mine.” Valentina lies smoothly, applying mascara in the mirror like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Very useful for… these situations.”

The lie is casual, but the word s “prettier skin tone” echo in Mel’s mind like a compliment.

Mel stands quickly, still holding the tissue, her legs slightly unsteady. “I’ll… I’ll… Natasha needs me.”

“Mel.” Valentina’s voice stops her halfway to the door. “Don’t forget to check the menu with the chef. I don’t want anything that makes me look bloated.”

“Y-yes, ma’am.” Mel nods, avoiding looking directly at either of them. She can feel the weight of Bob’s inquisitive gaze on her, trying to figure out what the hell actually happened in the last few minutes. The silence stretches tensely, but as usual, Bob can’t stay focused for long-he shrugs and shifts all his attention back to the Vice President.

“Okay… let’s turn you into a queen.” Bob says cheerfully as Mel heads toward the door. “You’re gonna look better than Beyoncé.”

“Shut up, Robert.”

Mel sighs as she returns to the main office, her steps echoing mechanically down the hallway until she abruptly stops and rests her forehead against the cold wall. The chilled surface against her flushed skin makes her take a deep breath, trying to sort through the thoughts that had completely tangled in her mind.

She runs a hand through her messy hair, rolling her shoulders in a futile attempt to relax the tension that had taken over every muscle. But it’s impossible not to think about what just happened-Valentina using her as a mannequin to test her lipsticks. The moment when she kissed the corners of her lips still lingers on her skin like a brand. And she loved every damn second of it, despite the nerves that had her hands shaking and the shock that rippled through her entire body at that moment.

Mel’s throat was dry as sandpaper, and her cheeks still flushed-the heat refusing to fade even with the office air conditioning.

She takes another deep breath, straightening her blouse and trying to slip back into her usual professional posture.

“Mel, what happened to your face?” Ava’s voice cuts through her thoughts like an alarm siren. She looks up from the documents she was organizing, one eyebrow raised in genuine curiosity. “You’re… covered in lipstick marks.”

“Hm?” Mel instinctively brings her fingers to her cheek, feeling an odd texture on her skin. She had completely forgotten to wipe her face with the tissue Valentina gave her. Quickly, she uses her own hand to try to rub the makeup off, scrubbing harder than she probably should-even though she knows it won’t do much.

“You look like a clown.” Walker comments without even looking up from his computer.

“Ha ha ha ha.” Mel fakes a dry laugh, sarcasm dripping from every syllable as she keeps rubbing her face. Now her cheeks are red for entirely different reasons-part embarrassment, part irritation.

“Here, take this.” Ava hands her one of the tissues she always keeps in a little box inside the secretary’s drawer. Mel refuses to ask why she has so much stuff stashed in there.

“Thanks, Ava.” Mel takes the tissue gratefully, finally managing to wipe off the rest of the lipstick staining her skin.

“You’re welcome.” Ava replies automatically, already picking up the phone that had started ringing insistently. “Office of Vice President Valentina de Fontaine, who am I speaking with?”

“Hey, Mel.” Walker gets up from his chair. “What do you think about Valentina making a joke during her speech? Right? I was thinking of adjectives that rhyme with Rogers’ name.”

Mel shudders just at the thought. Rogers is the most conservative and grumpy senator in Congress, and the last thing Valentina needs is a poorly timed joke to drive him even further away.

“Sure… I’m sure it’ll be great.” Mel replies, clearly lying.

“You spent two hours in PowerPoint thinking up jokes?” Ava asks without even taking the phone from her ear.

“Hey, that’s serious work!” Walker protests, crossing his arms defensively like a kid who just got scolded. “Humor is a very important political tool. Look at Reagan, he always knew how to speak and make everyone laugh…”

“That’s why he almost bankrupted the state.” Ava replies without blinking. The sentence leaves Walker completely silent, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“Yeah… no jokes then.” Walker mutters, defeated, slinking back to his desk with his tail between his legs.

“I think that’s for the best.” Mel agrees, nodding and pressing her lips together in a failed attempt to hide her relief.

9 p.m.

Drinking two cups of strong coffee was all Mel managed to get down for the rest of the day, and of course that didn’t calm her already frayed nerves one bit. She was still so… tense from being so close to Valentina, from smelling her perfume, from being kissed all over her face with an intimacy that knocked her world off balance. But she tries to keep everything as normal as possible, pretending she can just file those moments away as another day at work.

“You’re a mess today.” Natasha observes as Mel walks into the budget office, carrying a stack of documents that nearly slips from her trembling hands. Natasha handles the President’s budget affairs, and her office is an oasis of calm compared to the chaos of the vice presidency. There’s no one frantically pacing or Bob throwing himself on the floor. It’s just calm and quiet, like a blank sheet of paper.

“Sorry.” Mel sighs, trying to organize the papers into a more presentable stack. Her hands are still shaking slightly.

“Tough day?” Natasha asks, leaning forward slightly with genuine concern. “Tough boss.”

“It’s fine, just had a minor hiccup at work.” Mel replies automatically, the lie coming out more easily than it should. “Nothing important.”

“Sure…” Natasha doesn’t look convinced, but doesn’t press. She drums her fingers on the desk for a moment before leaning in closer, lowering her voice to nearly a conspiratorial whisper. “Hey, Mel. I wanted to tell you something.” She pauses, as if weighing each word carefully. “I don’t like gossip, but people are saying the Vice President is distancing herself from the President.”

Mel’s blood runs cold instantly, a tingling sensation crawling up her spine. “What do you mean ‘distancing’?”

“Everyone loved her embracing the protesters last week.” Natasha explains. “Everyone hates the President now. His approval dropped fifteen points.”

Mel knows exactly what that means.

“The Vice President is going to sit next to Senator Rogers at the dinner…” Mel murmurs, more to herself than to Natasha, political puzzle pieces falling into place in her mind.

“Steve Rogers has been one of the major voices against Tony’s campaign.,” Natasha confirms, leaning in even closer. “This could be good for Valentina if she wants to run for President next year, but she’ll be seen as closely aligned with Rogers.” She pauses, biting her lower lip. “And Rogers is a total freak. I don’t think it’s good for Valentina to be tied directly to an anti-LGBTQ+ campaign from a far-right Republican.”

“It’s not just a dinner…” Mel swallows hard, her throat tightening with the realization. Her hands begin to sweat as she processes the information. “He’s trying to be her VP.”

“Yes.” Natasha confirms, her voice heavy with apprehension. “If anything leaks…”

“A photo.” Mel finishes the sentence, her stomach turning. “Fuck.”

“Exactly, fuck.” Natasha agrees, shaking her head.

Bucky’s plan.

Mel knew this would blow up somehow, but she didn’t expect the mess to be this big. Her blood boils with a pounding headache as she storms down the hallway.

“Hey, Mel-” Bucky appears in the corridor, holding a cup of coffee that he nearly spills when he sees her coming like a hurricane.

“You need to call Bob right now.” Mel orders, stopping in front of him with clenched fists.

“Why? Wait, what th-”

“Steve wants to be Vice President.” She cuts him off, her voice low but loaded with urgency.

“What?” Bucky nearly chokes on his coffee. “What-the-oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” Bucky grabs his phone with shaking hands, quickly dialing Bob’s number while staring at Mel with panic in his eyes.

“Yeah, shit. You seriously fucked up with those protesters.” Mel snaps, pointing a finger at him. “If anything leaks, a single photo of them shaking hands, smiling together-it’ll be the end of her career. Tell Bob to get her the hell away from him. Now!”

“He’s not picking up!” Bucky shouts, waving the phone in the air with frustration. The sound of “ring… ring… ring” echoes down the hallway as he tries again, his voice growing more desperate. “Fuck, Bob, pick up that damn phone!”

“Oh my god, you guys are so screwed.” Peter strolls up with a smug grin on his face, clearly savoring the chaos. Mel rolls her eyes like the day couldn’t possibly get worse-but apparently it can. “Just imagine when the whole world sees a picture of the VP shaking hands with Rogers.”

“What the fuck do you know about it, you little freak?” Bucky shoves him roughly against the hallway wall, hot coffee splashing dangerously close to the edge of the cup.

“I know the President’s not going to be happy.” Peter says with that smug tone that makes Mel want to strangle him. “Especially after all the drama with his approval ratings tanking.”

“He knows…? About the photo?” Mel asks, feeling the blood drain from her face.

“No, but it’s just a matter of time before one of the CNN clowns posts it or the Times slaps it on the front page.” Parker answers, adjusting his wrinkled shirt after Bucky’s shove. “You know how it is-a picture’s worth a thousand words, especially when it comes to political betrayal.”

“Where’s the photo, Parker?” Bucky asks, his voice dangerously low.

“I said I don’t-”

SPLASH! Bucky throws the remaining coffee in Peter’s face. Peter yells, stumbling back with his hands covering his eyes.

“How dare you do that to the President’s assistant?” Peter screams, dripping coffee all over the hallway.

“Shut the fuck up. You only got this job because of your uncle.” Bucky snaps, his patience gone. “Everybody knows you’re incompetent.”

“The photo.” Mel stares at him. “I swear to you, the next coffee’s gonna be really hot.”

“Okay, okay!” Peter raises his hands in surrender, still wiping his face with his shirt sleeve. “It hasn’t leaked yet, but the guy who took it works for The Blade . Freelancer, name’s Eddie Brock.”

Mel nodded, grabbing her phone with trembling hands. Her fingers fly over the screen as she searches for the contact.

“Walker, I need you to call the Blade’s editor-in-chief right now. We have a situation.” She says, continuing to walk briskly toward the office while Bucky follows behind.

“Hey, I’m all wet with coffee!” Parker shouts after them, his voice echoing down the hallway as he tries to clean his soaked shirt.

“Oh yeah?” Bucky stops abruptly, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. “Let’s see what your virgin friends from the West Wing think about this.” He pulls out his phone and snaps several pictures of a soaked and disheveled Peter, the flash lighting up his red, irritated face.

“You can’t do that!” Peter protests, trying to cover his face with his hands while Bucky keeps snapping photos. “This is abuse of power!”

“No, this is justice.” Bucky yells back, slipping the phone into his pocket with satisfaction.

Mel pushes open the office door, entering with Bucky right behind her.

“We have to fix this before Valen-”

“She’s here.” Ava interrupts. “Waiting for you inside.”

Mel swallows hard, feeling saliva slide down her throat like sand. She looks at Bucky, who seems more terrified than she’s ever seen him-his face pale, sweat beading on his forehead. He just nods stiffly and walks to the door. They enter silently, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. The room is heavy with an almost palpable tension. Walker is already standing, restless, nervously fiddling with a pen between his fingers. Bob stands in the middle of the room, arms crossed, clearly trying to distance himself from the impending disaster.

Valentina leans against the mahogany desk, still wearing the black dress. Her fingers drum slowly on the polished surface, and her face… her face is anything but happy.

“Ma’am.” Mel says, positioning herself next to the team like a soldier in formation.

“President de Fontaine, it was all my fault, I-” Bucky starts.

“Shut the fuck up!” Valentina explodes, her voice slicing through the air like a whip. The silence that follows is deafening. “Do you know what you did, Bucky? That’s like trying to use a croissant as a fucking dildo. Let me be more clear: it doesn’t do the job, and it makes a fucking mess!”

Mel’s eyes widen, but she forces herself to stay composed. Bob clears his throat uncomfortably, while Walker stops fiddling with the pen.

“You’re all pathetic losers.” Valentina fires, her sharp voice echoing through the room. “I should fire every one of you today. I could have become a national joke if that fucking photo leaked.” She holds the paper with the printed photo, tearing it slowly in front of everyone, each piece falling to the floor like withered petals. “Walker, you can leave-at least for managing to do your job right once in your life.”

“Ma’am.” Walker replies, clearly relieved to escape public execution. He quickly moves toward the door, avoiding eye contact with his coworkers.

“Bucky, I want you to remember, when your mother dies, that you almost dragged the Vice President’s name, no, the whole country’s name, to that fucking coffin.” Valentina turns to him with a look that could pierce right through his soul.

“Yes, ma’am.” Bucky nods mechanically, like a broken doll. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Alright.” Valentina sighs, forcing a dangerous calm into her voice. “Go home and get a good night’s sleep before I ask the Secret Service to throw your corpse out the window.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He repeats, swallowing hard and leaving the room as fast as he can, nearly stumbling over his own feet.

Mel feels it’s her turn to face the firing squad. Her heart pounds so loud she’s sure everyone can hear it.

“Robert…” Valentina turns to him, her voice heavy with exhaustion. “You… make me some tea. Chamomile.”

Bob nods quickly and leaves the room, but not before giving Mel a look that clearly says: it’s your fault the Vice President’s night ended like this. The door clicks softly behind him like a sentence being passed.

Now it’s just the two of them.

The silence stretches across the room like a heavy curtain, and Mel can feel the weight of Valentina’s gaze on her, studying her, silently evaluating.

She slowly lifts her head, forcing herself to meet Valentina’s eyes. Her legs tremble slightly, but she does her best to stand, trying to hold on to some shred of dignity.

“Val, I-”

“No.” Valentina cuts her off with a single word, her voice low and dangerous.

“Madam Vice President-”

“You are my chief of staff.” Valentina approaches her with deliberate steps, each movement calculated. The sound of her heels clicking on the wooden floor echoes through the empty room. “And I need to understand why Bucky Barnes’ stupid ideas are being approved in my office, hmm?”

“Do you have any explanation?” She stops right in front of Mel, so close she can feel the heat radiating from her body.

Mel feels tears burning in her eyes, her throat tightening. She tried to talk to Valentina earlier, but the Vice President didn’t care. Still, she won’t say this is Valentina’s fault for not listening. Instead, she’s ready to take all the blame for this mess.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, and-”

“You’re sorry?” Valentina laughs, but there’s no humor in the sound. “Sorry doesn’t fix shit, Mel.”

Her name slipping from Valentina’s lips, loaded with disappointment and anger, hits Mel like a physical blow. She then collapses pathetically to the floor, dropping to her knees before Valentina, looking up with pleading eyes.

“Please, I just got distracted...” Mel begins, her voice breaking. “I couldn’t focus after… after..” 

After you kissed the corner of my lips.

Valentina looks down, watching Mel kneeling at her feet. There’s something hypnotic about the sight-Mel vulnerable, submissive, begging for forgiveness.

“Stand up.” Valentina whispers, her hoarse voice heavy with command and something softer. “Come on, you’ve already disappointed me enough today. I don’t want you ruining the carpet with tears.”

Mel does exactly as she’s told, rising slowly, her legs still shaky. She wipes her face with the back of her hand, trying to regain some composure.

“I expected Bucky to fuck up like this, of course. Walker too, they’ve never been that smart.” Valentina says, walking slowly around the room, her heels creating a hypnotic rhythm against the floor. “But you…” She stops, turning to look Mel directly in the eyes. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

“Maybe I spoiled you too much.” She continues, with a dramatic sigh, knowing exactly where to press Mel’s wound. “It’s all my fault. I should have set clearer boundaries from the start.”

“N-no, ma’am, it’s not your fault.” Mel says, fresh tears welling in her eyes, raw desperation in her voice. “It’s all my fault, I fucked everything up and almost put your career at risk because I wasn’t paying attention to my work. I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disappoint you, please. I-I’ll do anything to make it up.”

Valentina watches Mel for a long moment, as if making a crucial decision. Then she sits on the edge of the mahogany desk, crossing her legs elegantly, the dress fabric fitting her curves perfectly.

“Come here.” She orders softly, but with unquestionable authority.

Mel steps closer, stopping right in front of Valentina. She can feel the heat radiating from the Vice President’s body, the subtle perfume mixed with the electric tension in the air.

Valentina stands from the chair and runs her hand through Mel’s hair first, a gesture that makes Mel close her eyes for a moment. Then she moves down to the collar of Mel’s blouse, adjusting it with precise fingers, and then touches her ID badge, as if reminding them both of their positions.

“Turn around and lift your skirt.” Valentina commands calmly.

Mel’s head spins-maybe from the tears, maybe from the surrealism of the moment. But she does exactly as Valentina asks, turning to face the desk and then pulling her skirt up, exposing herself completely. She can feel Valentina’s intense presence behind her and the room’s cold air hitting her bare skin. It’s humiliating, but she stays frozen in position, fully submitting.

Then she feels Valentina’s hand glide softly over her skin, a touch that is both possessive and tender, exploring and claiming.

“You will always be my favorite girl.” She murmurs, her voice filled with genuine affection even in this situation. “But even good girls need to learn their lesson sometimes. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Mel agrees, pressing her fingers against the smooth, cold surface of the desk and lowering her head in complete submission, her hair falling like a curtain around her face.

The first slap is precise and firm, the sound echoing through the silent room. It leaves a burning sensation on Mel’s skin, but she doesn’t flinch and stands silently, biting her lower lip to hold back any sound. The pain mingles with something more complex, a mix of shame and pleasure as she feels Valentina’s fingers touching her skin. The second slap comes even harder, and Mel lets out a moan.

“Be quiet.” Valentina purrs. “I’m punishing you because you were a very bad girl. Do you understand that?”

“Y-yes, ma’am. I completely understand.” Mel replies, her voice muffled against the desk.

“Good.” Valentina nods approvingly. “You will never disappoint your Vice President again.”

“I-I won’t, ma’am.” Mel nods, trying to keep her voice steady.

Another slap follows, and this one is almost a heat that spreads across Mel’s belly like waves of fire. She has to press her legs instinctively because she doesn’t like how her intimacy reacts involuntarily. God, this couldn’t be more humiliating for her. She just hopes Valentina didn’t notice she’s about to get wet. Another slap, and then another-Mel’s body is hot and throbbing, her skin red and sensitive. Valentina seems pleased as she looks at the marks she left, like an artist admiring her work, and strokes her hand one last time, an almost affectionate touch.

“Turn around.” Valentina orders softly, and Mel does exactly that with trembling movements. With her blouse disheveled down to her thighs and her badge still hanging around her neck. While Valentina is perfectly put together in front of her, Mel looks like a complete mess.

“You were perfect for me.” Valentina gently brushes Mel’s tears off her face.

“I’m glad to know I pleased you somehow.” Mel nods, squeezing her own thighs in a vain attempt to control the sensations. Her panties certainly don’t look their best right now.

“Oh, Mel, you always know how to give me what I need.” Valentina murmurs, her voice filled with genuine satisfaction. “Put your skirt down and you may go.”

Mel nods as Valentina steps back, sitting on the desk as naturally as if nothing happened. She pulls the skirt down with mechanical movements, trying to ignore the still-burning sensitivity of her skin.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Mel whispers, adjusting her clothes and trying to regain some dignity. She walks toward the door with careful steps, each movement reminding her of what just happened.

“Mel.” Valentina calls when she’s almost out.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Be here tomorrow at 8 sharp, as usual.” Valentina says, her voice returning to a professional tone but with a note of possessiveness that doesn’t go unnoticed. “But always remember who you serve. Not the country, but me. Your Vice President.”

“Always, ma’am.” Mel replies, her voice still slightly hoarse from tears and emotions. She turns to leave, each step reminding her of the sensitivity still pulsing in her skin.

When she places her hand on the doorknob, Valentina adds without looking up: “And Mel… good job today. Despite everything.”

The words make Mel’s heart race again, a confused mix of relief and something deeper spreading through her chest.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Mel closes the door behind her with a soft click, leaving Valentina alone in the office. Outside, she briefly leans against the corridor wall, trying to process what just happened.

The office returns to its usual silence, but nothing will ever be quite the same between them.

She adjusts her skirt one last time, checks there are no visible signs of what happened, and walks down the corridor toward her desk. Tomorrow at 8 sharp, as always. But now she knows exactly who she serves - and how.

Chapter Text

Something changed after that night.

Mel had to cross D.C. with her hair ruined and her legs wet, still feeling the tingling where Valentina had touched her. Every red light was torture-too much time to process what had happened, to feel the heat still pulsing under her skin. Her body was still in shock, her cheeks flushed-both from excitement and humiliation. The car’s air conditioning couldn’t cool the fire burning beneath her skin.

She drove home in a trance, every movement in the seat a reminder of what had just happened. The fabric of her skirt rubbing against her sensitized skin was almost unbearable. Her hands trembled on the steering wheel, and she had to stop twice on the way just to catch her breath.

When she got home, she ran up the stairs like someone was chasing her. She stripped out of her clothes with trembling fingers and rushed to the bedroom mirror. She could see the marks on her ass perfectly-red, well-defined, like stamps of ownership.

And she remembered. How she fucked everything up.

How she put her career at risk and, more importantly: the Vice President’s.

The tears came without warning, hot and bitter. They weren’t tears of physical pain-those marks were nothing compared to the ache in her chest.

Valentina punished her because she had been a bad girl.

Because she didn’t do a good job.

Val punished her because she was upset.

With Mel.

With the situation.

Because her career had almost gone down the drain.

Because of… Mel.

Mel had let her down.

She saw it in Valentina’s dark eyes.

That hurt more than any spanking.

She sat on the edge of the bed, still naked, still trembling.

She swears to God she’d never felt anything as good as Valentina touching her. The way her slender, confident fingers controlled her, how her husky voice gave commands that she obeyed without question. How, for a few precious minutes, she was completely hers.

She swears to God she’d never felt anything as sad as the disappointment on the Vice President’s face that night.

Not even her breakup with Claire had hurt this much.

And the whole thing couldn’t get more humiliating-because she touched herself the moment she lay down in bed. She imagined herself on top of the Vice President of the United States, she imagined devouring her boss, she imagined touching Val in a way no one had ever been allowed to. It was enough to make her come and have to change the sheets that night.

✦ ✧︎ ✦

She feels an electric current in the air every time she walks into Valentina’s office.

A tension that makes her skin tingle and her heart race.

Valentina feels it too.

She knows Mel knows.

They’ll never be the same again.

It’s dangerous, the way they look at each other now-not the professional, respectful glances from before, but something loaded with unsaid words and undone actions. It’s dangerous how their bodies brush against each other during meetings, how Valentina always finds an excuse to keep Mel within her orbit. An “accidental” touch while passing documents, an unnecessary closeness when whispering confidential instructions that aren’t really that confidential.

Mel should be more careful, should keep her professional distance.

But every time Valentina calls her into her private office, she goes without question.

She waits for the Vice President to poke her head out of the room and look for her eyes. It’s almost like being chosen. The feeling that rushes through her chest when Valentina says her name-not the usual “Robert” but Mel’s name, in that husky, authoritative voice-is like being struck by lightning. Mel can’t explain how her feet move automatically toward her, as if her body no longer belongs to her.

Like that Thursday afternoon.

“Close the door.” Valentina had ordered, her voice lower than usual. “And lock it.”

Mel obeyed, the sound of the lock echoing in the suddenly charged room. The metallic click felt like it sealed something between them, transforming the official office into dangerous territory. When she turned around, Valentina was standing behind the desk, dark eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made Mel’s knees tremble.

“You’ve been... careless lately.” Valentina said, walking slowly around the desk. “Distracted. Your reports were late yesterday.”

It was a lie . A blatant and deliberate lie. Even though Mel had struggled to focus since Valentina kissed the corner of her lips and then that moment later in the room-the hands, the touches, the whispers-she had worked twice as hard to make sure nothing disrupted the Vice President’s day. Her reports were flawless, on time, perfect.

They’re just playing.

Flirting with fire on sacred ground of American politics.

It’s good.

It’s powerful.

It’s dangerous enough to destroy them both.

And the entire legacy of the White House.

“I... I’m sorry, ma’am. It won’t happen again.” Mel whispered, playing along because she knew that’s what Valentina wanted.

Submission.

Obedience.

The illusion of total control.

“It won’t,” Valentina stopped in front of her, so close Mel could feel the heat radiating off her body, the expensive perfume mixed with something more primal- excitement, power, desire . “Because you’re going to learn that when I give instructions, they must be followed to the letter.”

Mel couldn’t describe what it was like to feel Valentina’s hand first caressing her cheek-so gently she had to close her eyes-then sliding down her neck, over her shoulders, until it found her waist.

The touch was possessive, controlling, marking territory.

“Take off my shoes,” Valentina ordered, sitting in the presidential chair.

Mel knelt on the thick carpet without hesitation. Like a trained pet, like a devotee at a sacred altar. Her fingers trembled slightly as she unbuckled the Louboutin heels, aware of every breath Valentina took above her.

“Give me a massage,” Valentina commanded, extending her bare feet.

Mel took the delicate feet in her hands, beginning to massage with slow, deliberate movements. She could feel Valentina relaxing in the chair, a nearly inaudible sigh escaping her lips.

It was far too intimate for any professional relationship.

It was exactly where both of them wanted to be.

“Just like that,” Valentina murmured, her voice heavy with approval. “You’re very good when you pay attention, Mel.”

The praise sent a warm flush spreading through Mel’s chest, a dangerous satisfaction she knew she shouldn’t feel.

It was like a drug-Valentina’s recognition, the approval in her voice.

Mel nodded, leaning down further and placing her hands on the delicate feet, gently squeezing the soft flesh. Her fingers moved with reverent care over the arches, the soles, between the toes. Valentina tilted her head back against the leather of the presidential chair and parted her lips with a low, guttural moan that made something tighten in Mel’s lower belly.

“You have better hands than Bob.” Valentina muttered.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Mel replied, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m glad to please you in some way.”

In any way, she thought, but didn’t say. I’d do anything to please you.

Mel continued the massage, getting lost in the intimate moment. She could feel the tension melting from Valentina’s body under her fingers, could hear her breathing deepen, grow more relaxed. It was power- real power -to have the most powerful woman in America surrendering to her touch.

When the massage ended, Valentina pulled away abruptly, as if waking from a trance. The professional mask snapped back into place in seconds, but not before Mel saw a flash of something like panic in her eyes.

It’s when Mel always waits for... more. She waits for Valentina to let her touch her more. She waits and longs for the moment when Valentina will crash her lips against hers and they’ll stumble across the room, knocking over pens and confidential documents in the process.

No.

Valentina was already slipping her shoes back on, rebuilding her defenses.

“You can go now.”

The words fell like a bucket of ice water.

Mel stood slowly, her legs still weak. “Yes, ma’am.”

✦ ✧︎ ✦

Again-and again.

Mel is chosen, and her colleagues can’t help but notice the favoritism spreading like a silent virus through the White House hallways over the next few days.

It’s at the inauguration party for the new social program that everything finally blows up. The event is taking place in the Blue Oval Room, with important politicians, journalists, and members of high society circulating between canapés and expensive champagne. Mel should be at the back of the room with the other aides, but no-she’s seated next to the Vice President at the main table, as if she’s someone actually important. Valentina occasionally leans in to whisper something in Mel’s ear or smiles when Mel makes a quiet comment no one else can hear.

When the party finally ends and they return to the offices, Bob can’t hold back any longer.

“What’s going on between you and Valentina?” Bob asks, clearly upset that Valentina had chosen Mel to sit beside her at the inauguration party for the new social program.

“Mm? Nothing.” Mel replies, taking a sip of her coffee.

“What do you mean nothing?” Bob insists, crossing his arms and partially blocking the exit. “Are you trying to steal my job or something? Because I’ve worked here way longer than you, Mel. Way longer.”

Yeah, because carrying the Vice President’s purse is such an important and complex job. Mel thinks, but doesn’t say.

“Of course not, Bob.” Mel answers with fake patience. “There are just things you can’t do for her. Like go under her desk, because you don’t fit.”

Bob stops and thinks for a moment, processing the logic. He’s a big man. He seems convinced by the practical explanation.

“She told you I couldn’t shave her legs that one time?” Bob says, upset, his voice full of resentment. “I cut her by accident and she never let me do it again. Said my hands were too big and clumsy.”

Mel nearly chokes on her coffee. The image of Bob trying to shave Valentina’s legs is as absurd as it is disturbing. She can perfectly imagine the look of horror on the Vice President’s face.

“Some tasks... just require flexibility.” Mel replies, trying to sound casual. “And a feminine opinion.”

“I have plenty of good feminine opinions.” Bob protests, frowning like he’s genuinely confused. “I have three sisters! I know about women stuff!”

Mel has to bite her lip not to laugh.

“Still,” Bob continues, his voice turning more suspicious, “I’ve never seen her so... attentive with someone. Yesterday she even asked if you had eaten lunch.”

Mel feels her stomach tighten.

“The VP is very attentive.” Mel says, even though she knows it’s an outright lie. Valentina was many things-powerful, intelligent, sexually attractive-but attentive wasn’t one of them.

“Right.” Bob nods, apparently believing Mel’s words. “Didn’t think she’d forgive you so easily after the whole situation with Rogers.”

“Me neither,” Mel manages to say, her voice coming out weaker than she intended. She swallows hard, trying to regain her composure. “You don’t have to worry, Bob. I’m not trying to steal your position as the Vice President’s official purse carrier.”

But even as she says it, Mel knows it’s not about the purse. It was never about the purse. It’s about power, about control, about the dangerous addiction she’s developed to Valentina’s attention. It’s about how she feels special when she’s chosen, how she melts when Valentina whispers her name.

“Sure...” Bob says, still sounding suspicious. “You’d never be able to learn what all those pockets are for.”

He says it like Valentina’s purse is some kind of highly sophisticated military device, not a Hermès bag with compartments for lipstick and paperwork.

“Yeah, it’s a very difficult task.” Mel nods with mock seriousness, trying not to roll her eyes. “Requires years of specialized training.”

Bob puffs out his chest slightly, clearly satisfied with the acknowledgment of his “expertise” in purse organization.

“There’s the pocket for her glasses, the one for the Mont Blanc pens, the special compartment for her shoes, the little pocket for the breath spray…”

“ROBERT! MY ADVIL!”

“Y-yes, Madam Vice President! On it!” Bob stammers, all his earlier bravado instantly evaporating.

He runs down the hallway at impressive speed. Mel can hear him tripping over his own feet, muttering “where’s the Advil, where’s the Advil” while frantically rummaging through the sacred bag.

✦ ✧︎ ✦

On a scale from one to ten, how gay would you say the Vice President of the United States is?

Mel asks herself this question while watching Valentina during a cabinet meeting.

There’s a whole cult of girls on Twitter who think Valentina is going to fuck them someday. They analyze every photo, every interview, every public appearance of the VP looking for “signs.” They make endless threads about how the Vice President “obviously” looked at a CNN reporter or how she was “definitely” flirting with that senator from Connecticut.

Occasionally, that’s exactly how Mel feels-like an obsessed teenager, interpreting every gesture, every word, every touch as evidence of something more.

But all the games and touches.

Can… can that have a heterosexual explanation?

Mel tries to rationalize as she replays yesterday’s “massage” session. Maybe Valentina just likes power. Maybe she treats all her subordinates this way-with that intoxicating mix of domination and intimacy.

Even Bob massaged her feet. It wasn’t a big deal.

(Mel knows that’s a lie, but she keeps trying to convince herself.)

Because Valentina is straight, right? She married a man, she has a daughter, she’s never made any public statements about LGBTQ+ issues that hinted at something personal. She’s not into Mel that way.

Why is she fooling herself so much?

When did she start interpreting professional commands as flirting?

When did she start feeling like she belonged to Valentina in some primitive, possessive way?

Maybe it’s because Valentina is powerful, and power is attractive. Maybe it’s because she feels special being chosen, even if it’s just for humiliating tasks. Maybe it’s because, after years of feeling invisible, someone finally sees her-even if it’s just to use her.

Or maybe she’s just desperate enough to interpret elegant cruelty as romantic interest.

Valentina is not going to make her the next FLOTUS.

They’re not going to hold hands at a Pride parade while the Vice President publicly comes out with her chief of staff. They’re not going to be on the cover of Vogue as “America’s most powerful political couple.” There won’t be interviews about how love overcame all professional and social barriers.

All those fantasies are... ridiculous. Pathetic. God, she’s talking about the Vice President of the United States.

There’s no chance in hell she’s a 51-year-old woman in the closet.

Right?

The only thing politicians tend to hide are their young mistresses.

Worst case, she’s just a pathetic staffer who created an elaborate fantasy to cope with her crush on her boss.

Mel leans her head against the door, almost like a sigh of surrender.

And yet...

She thinks of Valentina’s fingers sliding across her ass that night.

The slaps. The way Valentina looked at her afterward, like she was seeing something she wanted to completely consume.

The way she whispers “good girl” after Mel obeys an order. The warmth in her voice when she says her name. How her eyes linger on Mel’s face a second longer than necessary.

Because maybe, just maybe, she’s not imagining all of it.

And that microscopic possibility-that one-in-a-million chance that Valentina actually wants her, that this is more than power and control, that there’s something real beneath all the manipulation-is enough to keep her addicted.

It’s like a drug. A tiny dose of hope that keeps her coming back, that makes her accept crumbs of attention like they’re feasts, that turns her into a version of herself she barely recognizes.

✦ ✧︎ ✦

“Ava, did the president call?” Valentina asks that afternoon as she passes by the office-Bob trailing behind her as usual, stumbling slightly while trying to keep up with her brisk pace.

As usual, Ava shakes her head and gets that look from Valentina she knows all too well-the sad puppy face that appears every time the President ignores her for more than 24 consecutive hours.

Which is always.

“Hey... Mom.”

The voice comes from one of the leather chairs, and Valentina turns to see Yelena sitting there.

“H-hi.” Valentina responds, clearly not expecting to find her daughter there. “What are you doing here?”

“The party. Grandma’s birthday party.” Yelena says, her voice flat with disinterest.

“Hm?” Valentina frowns slightly, thinking for a moment. She looks almost surprised that her mother is still alive-or at least surprised that it’s her responsibility. “Right, sweetie.”

“What did you do to your hair?” She steps closer and grabs Yelena by the shoulders, squeezing her cheek.

Yelena’s hair is clearly different-shorter, with colored streaks that definitely weren’t there the last time they saw each other.

“Mom…” Yelena protests, trying to pull away from the touch.

“Okay, it’s fine.” Valentina says quickly, letting go of her daughter. “I liked it.”

“Don’t lie.” Yelena replies. “You hated it.”

There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence. Bob stares at the ceiling, clearly wishing he were anywhere else.

“I didn’t hate it.” Valentina insists, but her voice has that tight quality it takes on when she’s lying to someone who knows her too well. “It’s... creative, right?”

She turns to Bob for backup, and he immediately nods with exaggerated enthusiasm.

“Very creative.” Bob confirms, though it’s obvious he has no idea what he’s agreeing to.

“Thanks, Mom.” Yelena says, and there’s genuine relief in her voice.

Valentina sighs, and for a moment, the political mask slips completely. Her shoulders relax slightly, and she looks less like the Vice President and more like a mom just trying to survive a conversation with her teenage daughter.

“When’s the party?”

“Seriously, Mom?!” Yelena bursts out, her voice rising an octave. “At eight o’clock!”

“Today?” Valentina asks, making a face.

“Yes, Mom! You tweeted happy birthday to her this morning!” Yelena pulls out her phone and starts scrolling.

“Oh, honey, that was Walker.” Valentina cuts in, waving vaguely toward the desk where Walker is seated.

“Hi, Yelena!” Walker yells from his computer, waving enthusiastically, completely ignored by both women.

“Grandma specifically asked you not to be late this time.” Yelena continues, crossing her arms in a way that’s identical to the gesture Valentina makes when she’s pissed off.

“Why?” Valentina asks, frowning. “Is she going to start walking again or something?”

The question drops into the silence like a bomb. Bob chokes slightly.

“Mom!” Yelena shouts, horrified.

“What?” Valentina looks genuinely confused about why her question was a problem. “It’s a valid question. She’s ninety-two and has been in a wheelchair for five years. Why does punctuality matter now?”

“Because it’s her birthday and she wants you to be there.” Yelena explains.

Valentina grimaces, and for a moment her face reveals an expression rarely seen in public-pure existential discomfort.

What could be worse than being ignored by that asshole President? Facing her mother.

A ninety-two-year-old woman with the supernatural ability to make Valentina feel like a ten-year-old who forgot to do her homework.

“Okay, honey.... of course I’ll be there.” Valentina says, trying to regain some control of the situation. “Why don’t you wait here and we can go together?”

“Yeah, that’s what we agreed on last week, in case you forgot.”

“Right, right, right.” She turns and walks toward her office with Yelena following close behind.

8 p.m.

Valentina hates this place. Her mother’s house is not only a place of memories she’d rather forget, but almost like an old sulfur she can’t stand the smell of - a mixture of medicine, wilted flowers, and time that accumulates on the walls like dust.

Her silence on the trip is almost an alarm for everyone in the car. It’s not the comfortable silence of someone relaxed, but that kind of tense quiet that precedes storms. She sits rigidly, staring out the window with an expression that could cut glass.

Mel hadn’t expected her to be dragged into this - anyway, she had more important things to deal with. Reports to finish, emails to answer, a life of her own that doesn’t revolve around the Vice President’s family commitments. So she spends the trip typing on her phone, trying to look busy and important, while occasionally casting glances at Valentina sitting beside her. Bob, of course, is there too - because apparently he is a permanent extension of the Vice President, unable to exist independently. He’s sitting up front, occasionally looking back in the rearview mirror with that nervous dog expression he adopts when Valentina is in a particularly grim mood.

And there’s Yelena, nervously biting her nails in the other corner of the back seat, even though Valentina already scolded her twice for it being a “bad habit.”

“How long has it been since you last visited Grandma?” Yelena asks, breaking the silence.

“I don’t remember.” Valentina answers curtly.

“It was last Christmas.” Yelena insists. “And you stayed less than an hour.”

“I had commitments.”

“You always have commitments. ” Yelena whispers-not quite quietly enough for Valentina not to hear.

Mel watches the exchange from the corner of her eye. It’s strange to see the VP - the woman who commands rooms full of senators - being questioned by a teenager and not having an adequate answer.

“Mel.” Valentina suddenly says. “Did you bring those documents about the pension reform?”

“No, ma’am. You didn’t ask me to bring them.”

“Good.” Valentina sighs, as if genuinely disappointed not to have an excuse to work. “Then we really have to attend this party.”

Her tone makes it sound like she’s talking about a public execution.

Mel slips away from the party as soon as they arrive, looking for the darkest corner she can find. While Bob clings to Valentina as always, she’s almost hiding by the corner of a dessert table, typing on her phone and trying to look invisible. The house is crowded with relatives Mel doesn’t recognize, all talking loudly and laughing in that forced way that characterizes family gatherings. The air is heavy with the smell of cheap perfume and birthday cake, and there’s low-volume 80s music playing in the background.

“Oh my God, Bob, you don’t have to stick to me like a dog.” Valentina says, her voice thick with irritation. “Go pee in the litter box or something.”

Bob steps away, visibly hurt, while Valentina sighs and grabs a glass of red wine from the nearest tray. She surveys the room with that expression of someone calculating how long she needs to stay to not seem completely rude.

There’s her idiot ex-husband. Then her uncle, who’s also an idiot, telling the same war story he’s told for decades. And Mel, eyes fixed on her phone, looking exactly how Valentina feels - lost.

Her feet move almost automatically toward her assistant.

“I thought the Vice President was too busy to come wish her mother a happy birthday.” A hoarse voice full of sarcasm interrupts her movement.

Valentina turns to see her mother approaching in a wheelchair, pushed by a nurse.

“Mom.” Valentina says, her voice instantly becoming more defensive. “Happy birthday. You’re… okay.”

“I’m alive, if that’s what you mean.” The older woman replies, stopping the chair right in front of Valentina. “Surprise, I know.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. I can see it on your face.” She eyes Valentina up and down. “Why are you drinking? Shouldn’t you be working? I thought saving the country was a full-time job.”

“Well, I’m stuck at a boring birthday party for a lady who managed to outlive Queen Elizabeth.” Valentina snaps, taking another sip of wine.

The silence that follows is deafening. Several conversations around them stop abruptly.

“Oh, so you came just out of obligation.” She says, her voice low but cutting. “How kind. I should feel honored that the Vice President of the United States managed to fit her mother into her schedule.”

“Mom, I didn’t mean-”

“Of course you did. You’ve always been honest about your feelings, Valentina. It’s one of your few admirable qualities.”

“I came , didn’t I? ” Valentina protests, but her voice sounds weak.

“Yes, you came. Forty-five minutes late, with a face like you’re at your own funeral, and now you’re insulting me at my own party. But at least you came. I suppose that counts as progress.”

Valentina opens her mouth to reply, but no sound comes out. For the first time in years, she’s genuinely speechless.

“And of course, you bring your employees along. Always putting work before family. This time you brought two. That young one?” She gestures toward Mel. “I doubt you haven’t laid hands on her yet. That’s why your marriage ended.”

Valentina feels all the blood drain from her face, and from the corner of her eye she sees Mel go completely stiff, the phone nearly slipping from her hands.

“Mel is… just my employee.” Valentina stammers, her voice louder than she intended. “My relationship with her is nothing more than-”

“Do you think I was born yesterday?” The old woman whispers, her small sharp eyes fixed on Valentina with the precision of a predator. “Exactly like you did with that secretary in your first political job.”

The words cut through the air like glass. Valentina feels the blood drain completely from her face, her hands trembling slightly at her sides. The party continues around them, but it’s like they’re inside a deadly silent bubble.

“I’m not obligated to endure this.” Valentina manages to say, her voice weaker than she meant. “I’m leaving.”

She turns to leave, but her mother’s voice follows her like a curse.

“Run.” the older woman says. “You’ve always been as cowardly as your father.” A cruel pause. “That’s why he died.”

The words hit her like a punch to the stomach. Tears form in Valentina’s eyes, hot and humiliating. She can’t breathe, can’t think. The room spins around her, and she feels like she’s going to collapse right there.

Val?

“Val?”

Reality returns as she feels a warm, steady hand pulling hers out of the house. It’s Mel, her eyes full of concern.

“Are you okay?” Mel asks quietly, already knowing she’s not.

She quickly assesses Valentina’s face - the tears, the paleness, the way she trembles slightly. It’s cold outside, the night wind biting, so Mel immediately takes off her blazer and carefully places it over the Vice President’s shoulders.

“I’m calling Bob-” Mel starts, already grabbing her phone.

“No.” Valentina interrupts her, her voice still shaky but firm. “He can go back alone, he’s a big boy.” She walks with unsteady steps toward the dark limousine waiting for them. “Come.”

Mel follows silently, recognizing this is not the time for questions. The driver opens the door without a word.

They get in and sit side by side on the luxurious back seat. The door closes with a muffled sound, sealing them off from the outside world.

The silence inside the car is killing - heavy and suffocating.

Valentina hates how Mel can see the tears still running down her cheek. She hates feeling so fragile, so exposed, so small. Hates how her mother can still hit her perfectly after all these years, still find exactly where it hurts the most in her chest.

“Val-” Mel starts softly, reaching out her hand.

Then she does it.

Without warning, without explanation, Valentina turns and pulls Mel to her, crushing their lips together in a desperate kiss. It’s a salty kiss because Mel can taste Valentina’s tears, can feel the raw desperation and vulnerability in every movement.

Mel tries to steady herself, supporting one hand on the leather seat while the other instinctively grabs Valentina’s waist, pulling her closer. The Vice President’s fingers are tangled in her hair, pulling hard enough to undo her perfectly neat ponytail.

It’s hunger and desperation.

It’s Valentina trying to hide from the pain, trying to lose herself in something, anything, that makes her forget her mother’s cruel words.

It’s Mel trying to offer comfort in the only way she knows Valentina will accept.

The kiss is urgent, almost violent in its need. Valentina bites Mel’s lower lip, drawing a small surprised moan. Her nails dig into Mel’s shoulders through the thin fabric of her blouse.

“Val.” Mel whispers against her lips when they finally part for a moment to breathe. “You-”

“Shut the fuck up, Mel.” Valentina murmurs, her voice rough and broken. “Just… shut up.”

And then she kisses her again, deeper this time, as if she could drown in Mel and never have to face the real world again.

The rhythm continues - Valentina is almost on top of Mel, her body pressed against hers with desperate urgency. Her knees press into the younger woman’s pants, one leg on each side of Mel’s thighs, completely dominating the space between them. She clings possessively to Mel’s body, her nails digging into the blouse as if trying to anchor herself to something real, something to keep her from completely falling apart.

And then Mel does something unexpected. Her hands, which until now only reacted to Valentina’s movements, move with their own intent. She touches Valentina’s ass over the elegant skirt, her palms curving to the familiar shape, squeezing possessively.

Mel at least tries to set her own pace for the first time since they got in the car.

Her fingers move more boldly, trying to slide under the hem of Valentina’s skirt, searching for bare skin, trying to find a path to more intimacy. But Valentina stops her hands abruptly, gripping Mel’s wrists hard enough to leave marks.

“You’re not going to fuck me in a limousine.” the Vice President says with a voice trying to sound authoritative, still with pride intact - even if she looks like a complete mess. Her hair is messy, her lipstick smudged, her blouse wrinkled, but there is still something commanding in her posture.

“O-okay.” Mel looks at her, her dark eyes dilated with desire. The question slips from her lips before she can think better: “Where do you want me to fuck you?”

The question hangs in the charged air between them. Valentina looks at her for a long moment, as if processing not only the question but the audacity of Mel asking it. There’s something predatory and satisfied in her eyes when she answers.

“At the White House.”

Chapter Text

Valentina must have completely lost control.

Because when she finds herself in the presidential limousine, pressing Mel against the soft leather seats, their mouths locked in a hungry, desperate kiss, she knows she’s crossed a line that was never supposed to be crossed. Mel’s body arches into hers, and Valentina can feel the heat radiating through the thin fabric of her blouse, can feel how Mel trembles under her touch. Easily-far too easily-she would let her chief of staff slip those agile fingers beneath her skirt, find the wetness already pooling between her thighs. But no. Not here, not now.

She needs to keep some semblance of control. She’s still the Vice President of the United States, not a desperate, needy woman who can’t contain her most basic impulses. But that’s exactly how she feels when Mel’s hands find her waist, when those fingers dig into her skin through the fabric, when her lips move against hers with an urgency that makes her core throb.

Her perfectly styled hair is now a wild mess, her hands buried in Mel’s ponytail, undoing every pin, every carefully placed strand. Her tongue explores Mel’s mouth-teasing, dominating, claiming-while low, guttural moans escape from both of them, swallowed by the confined space of the limousine.

It’s a ravenous, primal hunger she knows she’ll never fully satisfy. A need that burns in her veins like liquid fire.

No matter how desperately Mel presses her lips against hers, how deeply their tongues tangle, how intensely their bodies grind against one another.

It’s never enough.

Valentina always wants more-more pressure, more heat, more of that dizzying sensation of losing herself completely in another woman’s body.

She will never stop feeling this need that burns in her veins like acid.

Her desire for women- prohibited, dangerous, uncontrollable.

She hates every fiber of this feeling that consumes her.

She hates that it’s been thirty years since she found out who she really was, and she’s still the same terrified girl hiding in the shadows. Just a vulnerable child facing the clenched fists of her own mother.

She hates that her father died before he could see who she would become, before he could choose whether to accept or reject her too.

The abrupt sound of the limousine stopping hits her like a slap of reality. Valentina pulls away sharply from Mel’s lap, her fingers trembling as she desperately tries to fix the strands of hair that have come undone, tugging her skirt back down over thighs it had dangerously crept up. It’s far from an ideal situation-she still looks like a woman who has just been thoroughly devoured, her lips swollen and red, her eyes glazed with lust. And Mel is staring at her with those big, knowing eyes, full of an understanding that makes her feel completely exposed.

But it’s enough to make her body tremble with a toxic mixture of desire and shame.

Mel saw her completely fall apart-crying like the pathetic, desperate little girl she really is underneath all the political armor.

She kissed Mel with a hunger that revealed every secret she’s kept for decades.

Two lines were not just crossed, but obliterated.

Valentina likes women-and now Mel knows it.

Mel knows.

She knows the secret Valentina has guarded like a dagger pressed to her own throat for decades.

Just send her away and go back to the suite alone. Drink Chardonnay straight from the bottle on the cold bathroom floor until you pass out in your king-size bed. You’ve done it before-gotten drunk enough to forget the taste of other women’s lips, to forget what it feels like to be touched with reverence instead of political obligation. It won’t be that hard this time.

But it’s different now.

Completely different.

Because they’ve been playing a dangerous game of domination and submission that goes far beyond what should exist between boss and subordinate.

It’s not just sex.

It’s absolute power.

The most intoxicating, addictive kind for Valentina.

Send her away.

Send her away now.

Mel is still here, so dangerously close that Valentina can feel the pulsing heat radiating from her body like invisible waves, can hear every ragged breath that mirrors the chaos in her own chest.

She can’t.

When Valentina steps out of the car on legs trembling like leaves in the wind, Mel is immediately behind her like a silent, devoted shadow. Two more security agents flank them in military formation as their heels click in a frantic staccato against the polished marble, each step echoing like gunshots in the deadly silence until they reach the West Wing. Valentina nearly refuses to look back-her throat feels like sandpaper, and the only moisture left on her face is from her vulnerable tears and the burning traces of Mel’s kisses.

“You may dismiss yourself now, Johnson.” The words come out sharp and commanding as she turns abruptly to face the agent who escorted them to the mahogany door of the presidential suite. Her voice betrays nothing of the storm raging inside her. “Consider yourself off duty for the rest of the evening.”

“Yes, Madam Vice President.” Johnson replies with a nod, his eyes carefully avoiding prolonged contact before disappearing down the hallway.

Valentina finally lets her eyes meet Mel’s for the first time since they left the suffocating space of the limousine. What she sees is devastating: Mel’s dress shirt is completely rumpled and twisted, revealing tempting glimpses of golden skin beneath the disheveled fabric. There are red lipstick marks-her lipstick-barely wiped from Mel’s delicate neck, incriminating evidence of her loss of control. Mel stares back with those dark eyes, but says nothing, holding a charged silence until the heavy mahogany door is pushed shut behind them.

“Lock it.” Valentina orders in a hoarse voice, finally able to breathe properly now that they’re fully isolated in the private sanctuary of the room. The metallic click of the lock echoes like a final sentence.

“Val-” Mel begins, her voice thick with something between concern and desire, but the words die in her throat when Valentina’s hungry lips crash into hers again. Her hands move instinctively, gripping the vice president’s firm waist with desperate urgency as their bodies slam against the cold wall, crashing together in a primal dance.

Valentina can’t explain the compulsion that takes over her, but she simply can’t stop wanting more, always more.

Mel’s fingers find the buttons of her silk blouse, undoing them one by one with reverent urgency, and within seconds the expensive garment is abandoned on the thick carpet like a ghost of fabric. Her breasts, still confined in a French lace bra, press against Mel’s through the thin fabric, creating a delicious friction that makes her core throb. Mel then slides her hot tongue along the length of the vice president’s neck, tracing every curve of her flesh with hungry devotion, planting wet, deliberate kisses until she reaches her shoulder. Valentina throws her head back against the cold wall, a guttural moan escaping from her parted lips.

“Can I?” Mel whispers against her skin, her voice hoarse and heavy with restrained desire.

“What?” Valentina breathes, her mind clouded with pleasure.

“Can I touch you... completely?” Mel’s words come out in a reverent whisper, her dark eyes searching Valentina’s for permission. “Please, Val. Let me touch you the way you deserve to be touched.”

Valentina lets out a heavy sigh that sounds more like a low, primal growl.

“Call me Vice President.” Her voice comes out rough and commanding, laced with an authority that makes something clench deep in Mel’s belly.

“Vice President…” Mel whispers, the words spilling from her swollen lips like a reverent prayer. “Can I touch you? Can I run my hands over every inch of your body until you forget your own name?”

Valentina closes her eyes, feeling Mel’s words like physical caresses.

“Go on,” she orders, her breathing growing more erratic.

“Can I kiss you until you can’t even stand anymore?” Mel continues, her voice growing bolder, more desperate. “Can I make you moan my name loud enough that the Secret Service outside hears who’s really in charge here?”

“Mel...” Valentina moans softly.

“Can I show you how a Vice President deserves to be worshipped?” Mel’s words drip with seduction, her lips brushing against Valentina’s ear. “Let me make you feel like the goddess you are, Madam Vice President. Let me serve you the way you deserve.”

“Yes, yes.” Valentina moans, her voice cracking with need. “You can. You can do whatever you want to me.”

Desperately, Mel’s hands slide beneath Valentina’s skirt, her fingers finding the warm skin of her thighs before heading straight to the pulsing heat between her legs. The silk panties are completely soaked, and Valentina can feel her whole body jolt violently when Mel presses two firm fingers against the wet fabric.

“Fuck, Val…” Mel whispers against her lips, awestruck. “You’re soaked for me.”

It’s enough to make her absolutely insane with desire. God, they barely made it near the bed. She’s really going to let Mel fuck her against the historic wall of the White House just like that?

Yes. Absolutely yes.

One of Mel’s legs presses between hers, pinning her tighter against the cold wall, and Valentina instinctively hooks one leg around Mel’s waist for balance.

“When was the last time?” Mel asks, her fingers teasing over the damp fabric. “When was the last time someone touched you like this?”

When was the last time Valentina had been with a woman? Four years ago, at the beginning of Tony’s term. It had been awful, messy, desperate sex in a hotel bathroom after a political convention.

“A long time,” she admits, her voice hoarse with need. “A very, very long time.”

“Then I’m going to have to make up for all that lost time,” Mel murmurs seductively.

Mel’s fingers finally slide beneath the soaked panties, finding hot, sensitive flesh. She begins massaging Valentina’s swollen clit in precise, circular motions.

“Like this?” Mel whispers against the burning skin of Valentina’s neck. “Is this how the Vice President likes to be touched? Is this how you dream of being treated when you’re alone in your office?”

“Yes, Mel. Exactly like this.” Valentina moans desperately, her nails digging into Mel’s shoulders. “Fuck me. I need your fingers inside me right now. I can’t wait any longer.”

“Your wish is my command, Madam Vice President.” Mel replies, her voice laced with devotion, sliding one finger straight into Valentina’s hot, tight entrance. The moan that escapes the Vice President’s lips is pure sin. “You’re so tight… so perfect.”

Mel quickly adds a second finger, filling her completely, and begins to thrust with deliberate movements, sliding in and out of Valentina at a steady pace that makes her tremble.

“Harder,” Valentina orders, her voice coming out like a low growl. “Fuck me harder, Mel. Come on, don’t be afraid to touch me now. I can take it.”

Mel does exactly as Valentina commands, drastically increasing the pace of her hand, her fingers moving with devastating precision. She has to use her free arm to hold Valentina’s trembling body firmly, keeping her pinned against the wall.

“Yes, yes, fuck , Mel-” Valentina breathes desperately into her ear, her voice breaking into fragments of pure need. “Make me forget everything except your name. Make me moan so loud the whole White House hears.”

Mel obeys like the devoted woman she is, drastically intensifying her movements, her fingers pumping with relentless force that makes Valentina’s head bang repeatedly against the wall.

“Like this?” Mel growls against her lips, her own breath becoming ragged. “Is this how the mighty Vice President wants to be fucked?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Valentina throws her head back, her nails digging deep into Mel’s back, leaving marks that will last for days. “Oh my god, yes. Just like that, don’t stop.”

“Cum for me, Val.” Mel orders, her voice raw with command. “Cum on my hand.”

Mel is completely mesmerized, hypnotized by the sight of Valentina falling apart in her arms-the face of the most powerful woman in America twisted in pure ecstasy, her mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. Her fingers are immediately swallowed by the hot wetness of Valentina’s violent spasms as the older woman trembles uncontrollably against her, clinging to her like Mel is her only anchor to reality.

“That’s it, that’s it .” Mel whispers reverently, continuing slow, gentle movements to prolong every wave of pleasure surging through Valentina’s body. “You’re absolutely breathtaking like this.”

It takes Valentina long moments to return to her senses, her breathing coming in ragged gasps as her body is still shaken by lingering tremors that make her shiver against Mel. She finally opens her eyes slowly, gazing at Mel with raw, vulnerable intensity, and pulls her into a deep, desperate kiss, their tongues meeting in a hungry dance.

Mel starts to gently withdraw her fingers, but Valentina reacts instantly.

“Wait.” Valentina grabs her arm with urgency, the sensitivity and the devastating emptiness she feels now making her panic. “Fuck, just don’t move yet. I need you inside me a little longer.”

“O-okay.” Mel nods obediently, waiting for her next command with a devotion that makes Valentina’s heart race even more.

Valentina takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly as she waits for her senses to fully return. Mel still holds her firmly against the wall, offering the support she needs to keep from collapsing.

“Are you okay?” Mel asks softly, her dark eyes full of genuine concern as she studies every nuance of Valentina’s expression. “Are you feeling alright?”

It’s what Mel had wanted to ask ever since she found Valentina outside after that devastating fight with her mother. It’s what she’d meant to say the moment they got into the car and closed the door-but Valentina had cut her off every time, because she simply didn’t have an answer.

Valentina pulls her into another long, languid kiss, this time softer, more intimate-a silent answer that speaks louder than a thousand unsaid words. It’s a kiss that says thank you, that says connection, that speaks of something far deeper than physical desire.

“Can I?” Mel’s hands move hesitantly to the side zipper of Valentina’s expensive skirt, her fingers pausing respectfully.

Valentina nods slowly, her gaze never leaving Mel’s face, studying every flicker of emotion that passes through those dark eyes.

“Please.” Valentina whispers, her voice still hoarse with vulnerability.

Mel then begins to remove the rest of Valentina’s clothing, every movement deliberate. Her fingers brush against exposed skin like she’s touching something divine, too sacred to be treated with anything less than reverence.

“You’re perfect to me, Val.” Mel admits with a deep sincerity that makes Valentina’s chest tighten, her eyes drinking in every inch of revealed skin. “In every way.”

Those are not words Valentina is even remotely used to hearing during sex. All the men in her life were so mechanically rough, so selfishly focused on their own pleasure. But Mel, here, touching her, making her feel like the most important and desired woman in the world, makes her heart beat in a way she didn’t even know was possible.

Mel’s lips glide softly against her shoulder, planting reverent kisses along her back, every touch sending waves of heat across her oversensitized skin.

So good… maybe better than anything she’s ever experienced.

Mel’s hands tangle in her messy hair, gently massaging her scalp in a way that makes Valentina sigh with pleasure.

“I want to taste you.” Mel whispers against her skin, her voice dripping with reverent desire.

Valentina nods with her eyes closed, not trusting her voice in the moment. She feels Mel’s firm hands on her waist, carefully guiding her toward the bed. She sits at the edge of the mattress as their lips meet again, Mel skillfully removing the last pieces of her own clothing-left only in the white dress shirt that barely covers her firm breasts, her nipples clearly visible through the thin fabric.

Then Mel stops abruptly, gracefully kneeling at the edge of the bed, her hands planting firmly on the Vice President’s thighs, fingers spreading across warm skin before she looks up with an intensity that makes Valentina’s heart race.

Valentina is completely exposed like this, dark hair wild around her flushed face, lips parted in anticipation as she waits for Mel to make contact with the most sensitive part of her skin.

“Ready?” Mel whispers, her breath warm against the inside of Valentina’s thighs.

Without waiting for an answer, Mel lowers her head deliberately, burying herself between Valentina’s trembling legs, and slides her skilled tongue directly through the wet lips of her pussy. That first intimate contact makes Valentina shudder violently, electricity shooting through her entire body.

“Mel.” Valentina moans her name like it’s the only word she knows, her hands instinctively threading through Mel’s hair . “Fuck… keep going.”

Mel responds with more deliberate movements, her tongue exploring every sensitive fold with calculated precision, alternating between long licks and focused flicks that make Valentina twitch.

Valentina throws her head back, feeling Mel’s obedient tongue curl around every sensitive point-crucially making her moan over her mouth. Mel’s fingers dig harder into her thighs, pulling Valentina’s body closer and burying herself even deeper against her, like she simply can’t get enough.

“Oh yes, m-my god, fuck, yes.” Valentina moans desperately when Mel finds exactly the right spot. “Just like that. Good girl.”

Mel then focuses solely on that spot, alternating firm pressure and slow circular motions, pulling a string of louder and louder moans as Valentina’s hands clutch the silk sheets, gripping the fabric like her life depends on it.

Fuck, she doesn’t think she can hold out much longer.

“Mel, I’m gonna-”

Mel quickly lifts her head to meet her gaze, eyes begging for approval, then immediately goes back to her task once she sees Valentina’s look. She keeps sliding her entire mouth against Valentina’s pussy.

She swears she’s never tasted anything like it, and she feels her own core throbbing with need just from being allowed to serve Valentina this way. God, is she seriously about to come just from making the Vice President feel good?

“Please.” Mel begs desperately against her skin between reverent licks. “Let me make you come. I need to feel you cum in my mouth. That’s all I want, Madam Vice President.”

It’s all Valentina needs to finally fall apart completely.

“F-fuck-” Valentina arches violently off the soft mattress, her whole body contracting in intense waves of pleasure as she comes hard, soaking Mel’s eager mouth. Her moans echo through the luxurious suite, with no care for who might hear in the White House hallways.

And like a perfect employee, Mel swallows it all with gratitude, savoring every drop of Valentina’s unique taste like it’s the most precious nectar in the world. She keeps licking softly, prolonging every residual tremor running through the Vice President’s body.

“My god, you’re so good to me.” Valentina pants, still trembling.

As Mel finishes carefully cleaning her with her tongue, she can feel her own pussy throbbing uncontrollably. Her panties are completely soaked, a wet mess of her own arousal, and she can feel every fiber of the fabric sticking uncomfortably to her oversensitized skin.

God, if she doesn’t touch herself right now, she’s going to literally explode with need.

The pleasure of serving Valentina like this has left her in a state of almost painful arousal.

“Val,” Mel whispers hesitantly, her voice thick with desperate need, her dark eyes begging for release. “I… I need to… please…”

“Mm?” Valentina slowly lifts her head after recovering from the devastating climax, her hair still messy around her flushed face as she looks at Mel with growing curiosity. And then, seeing the desperation in her subordinate’s eyes, she understands perfectly what Mel is trying to say. A predatory smile forms on her lips. “Come here, my good girl.”

Mel obeys immediately, rising on trembling legs and climbing onto the soft mattress, crawling toward Valentina. When they finally meet, they kiss again-this time Valentina tastes herself on Mel’s lips, an intoxicating experience.

“You’re dripping, Mel.” Valentina notes in a hoarse voice, deliberately guiding her hand between Mel’s thighs, instantly feeling the wetness that’s completely soaked through the fabric of her panties. “Soaked.”

“I-” Mel tries to speak, but the words die in her throat when Valentina’s fingers press against the wet fabric.

“You got like this just from fucking me?” Valentina asks with a tone of domination that makes Mel tremble. “Just from serving me with your mouth left you this desperate?”

“Y-yes…” Mel whispers shakily, her cheeks blazing in a deep flush of shame and raw excitement.

“Pathetic.” Valentina murmurs with evident approval. “My staff gets soaking wet just from having the privilege of pleasing me.”

Mel bites down on her lower lip, struggling desperately to hold back the moans threatening to escape her throat.

“Val… please…” Mel whispers in a broken voice, her eyes silently begging for more.

“No.”

Valentina slides her fingers along Mel’s chin, gripping it firmly before claiming her lips in a dominant, possessive kiss, reclaiming control.

“Touch yourself for me.” Valentina orders, her voice low and dangerously authoritative, each word dripping with dark promise. “I want to watch you fall apart under my command.” Her dark eyes glint with predatory intensity as she leans back slightly to watch every move.

Mel nods desperately, a tremor running through her entire body as Valentina slides her hands possessively along her waist. With deliberate slowness, Mel slips her trembling hands into her panties, discovering just how wet and ready she is. A broken sigh escapes her lips as she closes her eyes, lost in the sensation. Valentina slowly lowers the garment, her lips finding the sensitive skin of Mel’s neck in kisses that burn like fire. With rising urgency, Mel presses a finger to her already swollen clit, an involuntary moan spilling from her throat.

“I want you to fuck yourself thinking only of me.” Valentina whispers seductively against her ear, her warm breath sending shivers down Mel’s spine. “Imagine it’s my hands exploring every inch of you, my fingers filling you up completely. Show me how much you want me.”

“Y-yes, Vice President…” Mel moans breathlessly, her voice cracking with need as she slides a finger into her already drenched entrance. A louder moan escapes as she slowly thrusts in, her hips arching involuntarily. “V-Val… oh god… it feels so good pretending it’s you… that it’s your hands touching me like this…”

Valentina bites her lip hard, devouring every movement Mel makes. Watching her assistant lose herself in pleasure – head thrown back, hair sprawled, hips moving in a desperate rhythm while thinking of her – sends waves of arousal straight to her core.

“Don’t stop, darling,” Valentina whispers hoarsely, hypnotized by the sight before her. “Tell me the truth, Mel... how badly did you want to fuck me? How many nights did you lose sleep thinking about having me?”

“So much... fuck, Val... every single day,” Mel moans breathlessly, her voice cracking with need and shame. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you... about what it’d be like to have you moaning underneath me.”

“Did you like it when I pressed you against my office desk and slapped your ass? I felt you trembling... felt you get even wetter with each smack.”

“Y-yes...” Mel confesses, cheeks blazing, her movements growing more frantic. “I ran home and touched myself thinking about you... Only you... your voice commanding me, your hands marking me, how I wanted to flip the roles and make you scream my name.”

“Fuck, Mel... you’re going to drive me insane,” Valentina breathes heavily. “Now be a good girl and come hard for me. I want to hear you scream, I want to see you fall apart. Tell me exactly what’s going through that filthy little mind while you fuck yourself thinking of me.”

“I-I’m thinking about fucking you again...” Mel moans desperately. “But this time... this time I want to be in control. I want to tie you to my bed and use my strap on you until you forget your own name.” Her voice falters with excitement. “I want to see the powerful Vice President of the United States begging to sit on my cock... I want to fuck you so good with my strap you’ll beg to be full of me forever.”

Mel’s fingers, which had been moving with precision, begin to slow due to the growing fatigue in her hand. Her muscles protest against the sustained intensity, but she refuses to stop. That’s when Valentina, noticing her exhaustion, grabs Mel’s arm firmly. Without warning, she guides Mel’s hand away from her own body and, in one swift motion, thrusts two fingers deep inside Mel’s hot, wet entrance.

“Val, I-” The word dies on Mel’s lips the moment she feels Valentina’s fingers filling her completely. Her mind disconnects from any coherent thought as waves of pleasure tear through her body like electric shocks.

The orgasm hits her with full force, making her arch violently against Valentina’s fingers. Her knees give out completely, and she collapses-first into Valentina’s warm body, then sliding down onto the bed, falling onto the silk sheets in a state of total ecstasy. Her breath comes in uneven gasps, her body still trembling with the last echoes of climax as she tries to regain some control over her fragmented senses.

Valentina watches Mel lying on her bed, completely soaked and panting, her white dress shirt half open revealing golden skin glowing under the room’s soft light. Her breathing is gradually calming, chest rising and falling in a rhythm that hypnotizes Valentina. She approaches deliberately, climbing on top of Mel’s warm body, feeling how perfectly their hips align. They melt into a deep, tender kiss-completely different from the wild passion from moments earlier-this one is soft, reverent, filled with a dangerous intimacy that makes Valentina’s heart race for reasons that go far beyond lust.

It’s addictive.

Completely, irreversibly addictive.

It’s like Mel has become a drug.

The sounds had been too loud. Moans, desperate whispers, the wet slap of skin on skin, the rhythmic creaking of the presidential bed against the wall-it all echoed through the room with an intensity that should terrify her. Mel’s screams of pleasure echoed off the walls, mixing with her own uncontrollable moans. Valentina didn’t care if anyone in the White House heard. Fuck the guards in the hallway, fuck the staff working late, fuck the dignity of the office. Right now, she’s just a woman consumed by hunger, by the raw and primitive desire Mel awakens in her.

All she can think about is Mel.

Lying in her presidential bed, completely sexy, with chestnut hair scattered across the sheets. Her lips are swollen and red from hungry kisses, her eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and renewed desire.

They both look like absolute messes-hair disheveled, flushed skin, marks on their necks.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. The word echoes in her mind like a sinful mantra.

Mel saying she wants to fuck her with her strap-the words still ring in her ears like promises. The mental image makes her tremble with anticipation, imagining what it would be like to be completely at Mel’s mercy, tied up and vulnerable, taking every thrust with desperate gratitude.

Fuck.

Fuck.

She doesn’t have to move much to feel Mel’s legs, sticky and soaked, clinging to hers with need. The wetness between them creates a delicious friction that makes her core throb with urgency. She’s going to lose her mind because Mel is starting to fuck herself on her leg, using it like a toy for her own pleasure. The movement is hypnotic-Mel grinding against her thigh with slow, deliberate circles, her breathing growing more erratic by the second. Valentina can feel the hot wetness spreading across her skin, can feel Mel’s swollen clit pressing against her with every motion.

Valentina grabs her chief of staff’s body, her fingers digging into soft flesh as Mel continues pressing against her leg. Valentina’s breasts are firmly pressed against Mel’s, her hardened nipples creating delicious friction that sends waves of pleasure through her body.

Mel’s hand grips her ass with a possessive, desperate strength, her fingers splaying to cover as much skin as possible. Each finger digs into soft flesh, leaving small red marks that will linger for days as secret reminders of this night. She presses Valentina even closer, as if she wants to fuse them into a single entity of pure desire.

“Mel...” Valentina whispers, her voice hoarse and ragged, eyes fixed on the flushed face of her chief of staff. There’s something mesmerizing in the way Mel moves against her, in the absolute focus etched into her delicate features. “Are you fucking yourself on my thigh?”

The question comes out more as fascinated observation than surprise. Valentina can feel the spreading wetness on her skin, can feel Mel’s pussy grinding into her.

“Mhm.” Mel nods with her mouth open, her lips forming a perfect ‘O’ as she pants desperately. Soft moans escape her throat with every breath, as if she’s struggling to form coherent words. “Can I? Please, please, please.”

Her words come out in a desperate plea that makes Valentina’s heart race violently. Tears of pleasure form at the corners of her eyes, her expression completely surrendered to the approaching ecstasy.

“Yes, you can, pretty girl.” Valentina nods, staring at her with an intensity bordering on adoration. “You can cum on my thighs as much as you want.”

How perfect Mel looks in this moment-completely naked, sweat-soaked hair plastered to her forehead, lips swollen and red, body trembling with the closeness of climax.

Mel keeps pressing against Valentina with growing urgency, her movements becoming more erratic and desperate. Her nails dig deeper into the vice president’s ass, squeezing and releasing in a rhythm that mirrors the pulse of her own pleasure. She scratches down Valentina’s back, leaving red trails that burn deliciously.

The sounds escaping her throat grow higher, more needy, until she finally gets what she wants. Her body twists against Valentina’s, waves of pleasure coursing through every muscle as she cums hard, soaking the vice president’s legs with hot, sticky spasms.

“Satisfied?” Valentina asks with a soft smile, her fingers gently caressing Mel’s messy hair as she still trembles from the aftershocks of her second orgasm.

“More than satisfied.” Mel finally manages to murmur against Valentina’s skin.

Mel’s arms wrap around Valentina’s with an almost reverent gentleness, resting her head against her neck after the colossal fucking that left them utterly wrecked. Her body still trembles, small hot sighs escaping her lips and spreading across Valentina’s sensitive skin. Valentina can feel herself completely held by her, almost like a genuine gesture of affection-something pure, instinctive, necessary. Mel’s fingers trace unconscious circles on her skin, as if memorizing every inch by touch.

It’s terrifying.

Completely terrifying.

That intimacy, that shared vulnerability that goes far beyond the physical. Valentina is used to keeping distance, building walls, using sex as a mechanical release of tension.

This is when she should send her away. That’s exactly what her rational brain is screaming.

This is when she should kick her out like she does with every man after a dry fuck.

A well-rehearsed routine: get up, hand over clothes, point to the door. No hugs, no post-sex talk, definitely no cozy naps.

She should tell Mel to get up and grab her clothes from the floor, go home, and wait for her at work in a few hours, pretending nothing happened.

Valentina carefully loosens her hold, noticing Mel is softly dozing, her breath deep and steady. Her relaxed sleeping face looks even younger. There’s an expression of absolute peace in her features that makes something tighten in Valentina’s chest. She gets up slowly, taking care not to wake Mel, wrapping her naked body in a silk robe. The cold fabric against her still-warm skin makes her shiver slightly.

She should wake Mel and send her away-that’s the sensible, safe thing to do.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she takes a soft pillow and gently places it under Mel’s head, adjusting it carefully to not disturb her sleep. Then she pulls the silk sheet over her body. Her fingers linger for a moment on the edge of the sheet, hesitating. Then, after a long, hot shower where she tries to process what just happened, she returns to the presidential suite. Her hair is still damp, her skin smelling of lavender. Mel hasn’t moved, still sleeping deeply, a serene expression painted on her face.

Valentina hesitates for a moment beside the bed, fighting decades of instinctive self-preservation. Then, carefully, she lifts the sheet and lies down next to Mel, her movements deliberately soft so as not to wake her.

She knows she’s crossed another line-perhaps the most dangerous one of all.

It’s no longer about sex.

It’s the kind of line that, once crossed, can never be undone.

But that night, Valentina manages to have a good night’s sleep for the first time in years. With Mel instinctively nestling against her, her arms wrapping around Valentina’s waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she finally finds a peace she had long forgotten existed.