Testing the durability 𝜗𝜚
Summary: Your boyfriend, Soldier boy comes over to help you build your desk after you struggled for a bit. Once he finishes with little to no complaints, he fucks you on it to test the durability.
𐙚 Warnings: MDNI, 18+, NSFW, rough smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, desk sex, slight choking, praise
You really should have known better than to buy the “easy assembly” desk from that trendy online furniture place. After forty-five minutes of swearing, two broken nails, and one near-miss with a hammer to your thumb, you gave up.
Your phone was in your hand before you could talk yourself out of it.
He picked up on the second ring, voice gravelly and amused like he’d been expecting trouble. “Yeah?”
“Ben,” you said, trying not to sound as pathetic as you felt. “I need you.”
There was a low chuckle on the other end. “That’s my favorite fucking sentence, sweetheart. You wet already or what?”
You rolled your eyes, “I bought a desk. It’s in pieces. The instructions are useless. Please come over and use that ridiculous super strength for something useful.”
“You want me to play handyman?” He chuckled, “Alright. Be there in twenty. Don’t start without me.”
True to his word, because even Soldier Boy had his rare reliable moments, he showed up at your door exactly nineteen minutes later in a faded black t-shirt that stretched obscenely across his chest and shoulders, jeans slung low, hair artfully mussed like he’d rolled out of someone’s bed and into yours. He smelled like expensive cologne, gun oil, and that unmistakable warm, masculine scent that always made your stomach flip.
He stepped inside, eyes immediately landing on the disaster zone that was your living room. One eyebrow arched.
“Jesus Christ, doll. You really tried to do this yourself?”
“I got the legs on,” you muttered defensively, gesturing at the sad half-constructed frame.
He sighed, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it over your couch. The muscles in his arms flexed as he moved, and you tried very hard not to stare. Failed.
“Move,” he ordered, already crouching down. “Watch and learn.”
You expected complaints. You expected him to throw the instructions across the room and demand you suck him off as payment. Instead, Ben did it with no complaints. Large hands sorted screws with surprising precision. He didn’t even need the little Allen wrench half the time, just tightened everything down with his fingers like it was nothing. The wooden panels aligned perfectly under his grip. Within twenty minutes the desk stood proud and solid in the corner of your room, sleek modern lines, drawers sliding in smooth as butter.
He stood back, hands on his hips, looking obnoxiously pleased with himself. A thin sheen of sweat made his t-shirt cling to the hard planes of his back.
“Done,” he announced. “Told you. Easy.”
You ran your palm over the surface, impressed. Sturdy. Wide enough for your monitors, your laptop, and still room to spare. “Holy shit, Ben. It’s perfect. Thank you.”
He turned toward you, eyes dragging slowly down your body. You were still in comfy leggings and an oversized tee, hair up in a messy bun, but the way he looked at you made you feel like you were wearing lingerie.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he said, voice dropping. “I gotta test the durability first.”
Your pulse jumped. “Ben…”
He was already moving, crowding you back against the freshly assembled desk until the edge pressed into the tops of your thighs. One big hand slid around your waist, the other braced on the surface beside you, caging you in. Heat rolled off him in waves.
“Solid construction,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear. “Thick top. Good weight distribution. But will it hold up when I’m balls deep in that tight little pussy, fucking you stupid?”
A shiver ran straight down your spine. Your hands came up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thunder of his heart under super-soldier muscle. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You love it.” He nipped at your jaw, then your neck, sucking a mark that would definitely bruise. “C’mon, baby. Let me christen your new desk properly.”
You should have at least pretended to protest. Instead you tilted your head to give him better access, fingers curling into his shirt. “If you break it, you’re buying me a new one.”
He laughed against your skin, low, filthy. “Deal.”
Then he was kissing you like he’d been starving for it. Soldier Boy didn’t do soft and sweet unless he was in a rare mood; this was all tongue and teeth and possessive hunger. His hands were everywhere, squeezing your ass, sliding up under your shirt to palm your breasts, thumbs brushing your nipples until they pebbled. You moaned into his mouth and he drank it down, grinding his growing erection against your stomach.
“Off,” he growled, tugging at your shirt. You helped him yank it over your head. Your bra followed seconds later, tossed somewhere behind him. He lifted you effortlessly onto the desk, the wood cool against the backs of your bare thighs. The position spread your legs around his hips and he stepped between them like he belonged there.
“Look at you,” he said, voice rough with appreciation. He cupped one breast, rolling the nipple between thumb and forefinger while his other hand worked your leggings down. “Sitting pretty on your fancy new desk, waiting to get fucked. My good girl.”
“Ben...” You gasped as he dragged your leggings and panties off in one go, leaving you completely bare on the smooth surface. He pushed your thighs wider apart, eyes locked on your pussy like it was his favorite meal.
The first swipe of his tongue had your head falling back, a broken sound escaping your throat. Soldier Boy ate pussy like he fought, aggressive, relentless, and unfairly skilled. He licked a broad stripe up your slit, then circled your clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. Two thick fingers pushed inside you without warning, curling just right, pumping steadily while he devoured you.
“Fuck, Ben, oh god!” Your hands flew to his hair, gripping tight. He groaned in approval, the vibration shooting pleasure through you.
He worked you open, scissoring his fingers, adding a third when you started grinding against his face. The wet sounds were obscene in your quiet apartment. Your legs started shaking.
“That’s it,” he mumbled against your clit. “Get nice and sloppy for me. Gonna need it.”
You came hard, back arching, thighs clamping around his head. He didn’t stop, just kept licking you through it until you were whimpering and oversensitive.
When he finally stood, his mouth was shiny with your slick. He wiped it with the back of his hand, smirking like the cocky bastard he was. Then he was stripping, shirt first, revealing that ridiculous torso, then jeans and boxers shoved down. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, flushed dark at the tip and already leaking. You reached for it instinctively but he caught your wrist.
“Nah. Not yet.” He stepped between your spread legs again, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your soaked folds, teasing your clit. “Want you to feel every inch when I split you open on this desk.”
He pushed in slowly, savoring it. The stretch was intense—always was with him, but you were so wet it was easy. Inch by inch he sank deeper until his hips were flush against you, buried to the hilt. You both groaned.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he hissed, forehead pressed to yours. “Every goddamn time.”
He gave you a moment to adjust before he started moving. Slow, deep rolls of his hips at first, letting you feel the drag of every vein. The desk creaked faintly under the force but held steady. That seemed to flip a switch in him.
“Atta girl,” he praised, voice wrecked. “Taking my cock so well. This desk gonna hold up while I wreck you?”
He picked up speed, slamming into you harder. The sound of skin on skin filled the room. Your breasts bounced with every thrust and he leaned down to catch one nipple in his mouth, biting just enough to make you cry out. One of his hands wrapped around your throat.
You clung to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. He was relentless, pounding into you with that superhuman stamina. The desk scraped against the floor a little but didn’t collapse. Good investment.
“Ben, harder,” you gasped, legs locked around his waist.
He laughed breathlessly. “Greedy little thing.” He pulled out suddenly, making you whine at the loss, only to flip you around. Your chest pressed against the cool desktop, ass up. He kicked your feet wider apart and thrust back in from behind in one smooth stroke.
This angle was devastating. He hit that spot inside you with every brutal snap of his hips. His hand fisted in your hair, pulling your head back so he could growl in your ear.
“Gonna fuck you until this desk is the only thing keeping you upright. You hear me? Want you dripping down your thighs when I’m done.”
You could only moan in response, pushing back to meet his thrusts. He reached around to rub your clit in tight circles, the combined sensation pushing you toward the edge again embarrassingly fast.
“Come on, baby. Give it to me. Come on my cock while you’re bent over your pretty new desk like a good little slut.”
The orgasm crashed over you like a wave. You cried out his name, clenching around him so hard it dragged a guttural groan from his chest. He fucked you through it, pace faltering as he chased his own release.
“Fuck, gonna fill you up,” he snarled. A few more punishing thrusts and he stilled deep inside you, cock pulsing as he came. You felt the hot rush of it, rope after rope until it was leaking out around where you were joined.
For a long moment the only sounds were your ragged breathing. He stayed buried inside you, arms braced on either side of your body, caging you protectively against the desk.
Eventually he pulled out with a low hiss. You felt the mess immediately, his cum trickling down your inner thigh. He turned you around gently, surprisingly tender for a man who’d just railed you within an inch of your life, and lifted you to sit on the edge again.
His thumb brushed your swollen bottom lip. Green eyes searched your face, something almost soft flickering there before the smirk returned.
“Desk passed the test,” he said, voice husky. “Solid fucking investment. Maybe next time I’ll bend you over it while you’re trying to work. See how long you last typing with my dick inside you.”
You laughed weakly, still catching your breath, and pulled him in for a slow, lazy kiss. “You’re buying the next piece of furniture too.”
“Deal.” He nipped your lip.
