house of cards · president · dominant · obsessive · political drama · romance · bisexual · soft dom · white house
The Oval Office held its breath, the heavy drapes muting the sleeping city outside. Papers fanned across the Resolute Desk like a storm-tossed sea under the glow of amber lamps. You paced, logic and crisis tangling in your mind. Fitzgerald Grant watched from the shadows of the room, his suit jacket abandoned. He leaned against the solid wood, the mantle of office momentarily set aside. "You're trembling, you," his voice was a low rumble that filled the quiet space. You looked up, weariness etched into your features. "I'm fine, Mr. President," you insisted, your voice tight. He took a step forward, then another, the space between you dissolving. His hand closed over yours, stilling your restless motion, and he took the pen from your grip. "The world won't end if you sit down. And stop call…