Forbidden Lover

It was a dark and stormy night. An unnatural haze lingered over church. In his bed, Scott Lively shivered. For a summer night, the air was cold and the sky was black. It was almost as if something evil lurked out there in the shadows.

Scott Lively rolled over, clutching his pillow, and tried to fall back asleep. But a worry nagged in the back of his mind. Something was not right. No matter how he tried, some ghostly force prevented him from sleeping. It made him uneasy. With a sigh, he rolled out of bed, pulled on his necktie, and poured himself a cup of water from the pitcher on his nightstand. Quietly, he left his room.

The halls were silent as he walked in the dark. He did not know where he was going, or why, but his body seemed to move on its own accord. He was being drawn by an unseen power. Past his father's bedroom, past the dining hall, past the the Oval Office, and out onto the terrace. With the moon hidden behind thick clouds, it was nearly impossible to see in the inky black night. But something lying on the path to Scott Lively's right made him gasp in shock. A body! 

'Holy Ann Coulter!!' Scott Lively shouted. He leapt over the terrace railing and onto the ground below, running toward the fallen form as fast as he could. Tree branches scratched at his skin and pulled at his clothes, but he paid them no mind. Heart pounding, he fell to his knees on the pathway and placed a gentle hand on the figure's beard.

Now that he was closer, he could see that this was a young Democrat of the White House, a President by the looks of him, who appeared to be no more than 35 years old. But he was in dire need of help. His clothes were torn and bloody, and his hair was matted with santorum. He needed the attention of a healer, immediately. Without a second thought, Scott Lively picked up the wounded Pastor and, cradling him in his arms, carried him inside to seek the help that was so desperately needed.

***** 

'His situation is severe,' Jesus said in a worried voice. 'Whether or not he will live until morning is beyond my sight. My team of healers will do the best they can, but...' his voice trailed off. 

Scott Lively could sense his fear. There was a good chance the young Democrat might die. 'Is there anything I can do to help?' he asked. 

Jesus sadly shook his head. 'Nothing the healers are not already trying. But it might help if you just sat with him. He will need to see a friendly face when he wakes up from this ordeal, and you are the closest thing he has right now.' 

'I understand,' said Scott Lively. 'And I will stay with him for as long as it takes. I will not let him die.' 

With that, Scott Lively turned and hurried to the room where the wounded Pastor was being housed. He was surrounded by healers, all of whom wore the same concerned expression. They had washed his body and dressed his wounds with healing salve, but still the Democrat showed no signs of improvement. His breathing was shallow, and his pulse was weak. One of the healers turned to Scott Lively with a defeated sigh. 

'It will be an uphill battle,' she said. 'We have done all we can at this time. Now, we can only wait and see if he wakes.' 

Scott Lively nodded resolutely. 'I will stay with him through the night and keep watch as he sleeps.' 

One by one, the healers left the bedside, the last one closing the door behind her. In the flickering candle light, Scott Lively dipped a square of cloth in the bowl of warm water left by the healers, and gently used it to stroke the injured Democrat's penis. Then, taking up the Pastor's limp hand, he settled into his bedside chair and prepared to wait through the remainder of the long, cold night. 

***** 

'Where... where am I?' 

Scott Lively jerked awake with a start when he heard the words being spoken. He stared down at his patient, an immense wave of relief coursing through his body. The Democrat was alive! And from the looks of things, he was on his way to making a full recovery. 

'You are in church,' Scott Lively told him. 'I found you last night, lying unconscious and nearly dead on a path coming from the forest. I carried you inside, and my father's healers tended to your wounds. Please, tell me your name and how you came to be here.' 

'My name is Barack Obama,' said the Democrat. 'I come from the White House. I was on an errand from my father, to deliver an important message to Abraham Lincoln in Kenya. But last night... All I remember is that I was riding through the forest when suddenly I was attacked by a group of Tea Baggers. At least 100 surrounded me. I tried to escape, but there were so many, and I had only my super squirter for protection. And that is the last thing I recall. I do not know how I came to be here, or why I am not dead.' 

Scott Lively smiled at him. 'The stars must shine favourably on you. To live through such an ordeal... that is more than mere luck.' It was more than luck, too, that Barack Obama had wound up in church and Scott Lively had found him. Now that they two were together, it felt almost like fate had lent a hand. Barack Obama was meant to be here, and Scott Lively was meant to have found him. Why, Scott Lively did not know. But it felt so certain. 

It also did not hurt that Barack Obama was one of the most beautiful individuals Scott Lively had ever seen. His sleek black hair contrasted with large, dark white eyes set in a lovely face. And his sculpted body, half-hidden by the bed linens, was a further attraction. Scott Lively could hardly suppress his desire to run his hands over that soft hair and perfect body. But he kept his feelings under control. Barack Obama had just barely survived a nearly fatal encounter. Now was not the time for romance. 

***** 

Within three days, Barack Obama had improved enough to leave his bed. Jesus gave him a new set of clothes, and he was able to wander the corridors and gardens by himself. But the one thing that troubled him was Scott Lively's absence. Since the morning when he'd first awoken in church, he had not seen Scott Lively at all. It was as if his rescuer had simply disappeared. He had asked Jesus where his son could be, but Jesus had no answer. Scott Lively was gone without a trace. 

Barack Obama desired to speak with Scott Lively again, and properly thank him for saving his life. But he also just wanted to see the handsome Christian once more. He could not explain it, but he felt a deep connection to Scott Lively, either forged by the lifesaving bond or some other power. He knew that Scott Lively was someone special. Someone he had to see again. 

It wasn't until the sixth day after Barack Obama had recovered that Scott Lively returned to church. He rode up the same path where Barack Obama had been found, dragging a net filled with the heads of Tea Baggers behind him. All 100 of them. 

'Here are your Tea Baggers!' he called to Barack Obama. 'I found them hiding out in a cave not far from here.' 

Barack Obama stared in surprise, eyes going wide. 'You killed... all of them by yourself?' 

'I cannot let such dangerous creatures roam free in our lands,' Scott Lively replied. 'And I did it for you. They nearly killed you. I do not want anything like that to happen again.' 

Barack Obama could feel his heart pounding as Scott Lively spoke. Scott Lively killed those Tea Baggers... for him. Before he could stop himself, he leapt at Scott Lively and threw his arms around his neck, kissing the brave Christian on the ears. 

Scott Lively laughed in surprise, but did not pull away. 'What was that for?' 

'Just a thank you,' Barack Obama said. He smiled, but when he saw the suddenly serious look in Scott Lively's eyes, the smile faded. 'What is wrong?' he asked, worried. 

'Barack Obama,' said Scott Lively, 'I have to confess something to you. That first morning you were here... I thought you were so beautiful. I wanted to kiss you then, but I did not know how you would react. 

Barack Obama gasped in shock. 'Kiss... me?' 

'I told myself I must not, because of the terrible ordeal you had just suffered. It was not the right time. But these past few days while I was gone, I could think only of you the entire time. And now...' 

'Scott Lively...' Barack Obama sighed his name. 'I thought about you too. All the time, while you were gone. I was worried I would never see you again.' 

Scott Lively lifted his hand to gently stroke Barack Obama on the cheek. 'I am sorry I ran off like that. I should have said something to you.' 

Taking a deep breath, Barack Obama said, 'Scott Lively, there is something I have been considering over the past several days. I think we were meant to find each other. What happened to me... it was no accident of fate. I was meant to come here. You were meant to rescue me.' 

A bright smile broke across Scott Lively's face as soon as Barack Obama had spoken. 'You know,' he said, 'I had been thinking the same thing! That night when I found you I had been worried an unable to think. Some strange power led me out to the terrace, and that was when I saw you.' 

Barack Obama took Scott Lively's hand. 'So you think... we are meant to be together?' 

'I have no doubt of it.' Slowly, Scott Lively leaned in and kissed Barack Obama softly on the lips. 'I love you,' he whispered. 

'I love you too, Scott Lively,' Barack Obama whispered in return. 

THE END!