Title: Happy Birthday
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
Drabble Request: “Come over here and make me.”
“Steven Grant Rogers, give me my pencil back and stop acting like a child.” You reached your hand out impatiently, completely done with his antics. For the entire day, your boyfriend had been trailing you around and disrupting your work: slipping papers on to the floor, hiding your cellphone whenever you used the restroom, and kidnapping your writing utensils. He had complained about you working on his birthday, but you never thought he’d be so immature about the whole thing. You let out an exasperated groan as he sat on the edge of your desk and held it out of reach.
“No, I don’t think I’m going to,” cocking his eyebrows, he tilted his head downwards to meet your eyes, a devilish smile ghosting on his lips as he stared you down, “so why don’t you come over here and make me?”
A smile played delicately on your lips as you slyly sprung out of your rolling chair, pushing it forcefully against the wall with an audible thud, ‘So that’s what he’s after.’ Reaching nimble fingers to the blinds of your office window, you pulled them down with a swift, fluid motion before removing the papers from your desk and locking the door, pressing against it lightly so the noise would be almost inaudible to anyone on the other side of it.
“Is that what you want me to do, Captain?” Sauntering away from the door and towards the man poised at your workspace, your hands fiddled teasingly at the button clasps of your white blouse. You unclasped the first five at an achingly slow pace and opened only just enough to reveal the lacy cups of the lingerie bra covering and lifting your supple breasts up.
Steve’s strong jaw twinged ever so slightly, mouth slightly agape as you taunted him from afar. Eyes wavering between the exposed flesh above your breasts and the suggestive crusade your fingers enacted as you ran them down your abdomen and hips, he hovered his hands above the waist of his jeans in an unfocused attempt to rid himself of the obstructive garment, feeling himself stiffen considerably at the sight of you.
Crossing the floor quickly, you snaked a hand across his chest and softly pushed him backwards, laying him on the wooden desk before he could accomplish his task. “Oh no, we don’t have any time for that.” You brought yourself up on the surface, placing one knee beside him as the other nestled between his thighs. “I’m a busy girl, Captain. At any moment someone could come knocking at that door,” you felt him hitch the hem of your black skirt up above your thighs and ass, exposing your panties before you settled down on the area where his legs met his groin, “and we wouldn’t want them to catch you with your pants down.”
Carefully, you undid the button of his trousers and slid the adjacent zipper down in a tortuously slow fashion, making a show of each curve or bulge. Instinctively, he arched into your touch as your quick fingers slid across the span of his boxers, cupping the hardening form lying beneath through the fabric. “Christ…” he sputtered abruptly as you stroked him delicately, thrusting haphazardly into your palm in the way a teenager getting his first handjob might.
“Someone’s very enthusiastic,” you teased as you resumed your motions, trailing fingers across his clothed cock, “but you have to be quiet.” Leaning over his taut and sculpted abdomen, you used your free hand to guide one of his large palms to your chest. “Fuck, Steve…” you mewled quietly as he cupped you beneath the confines of your bra, kneading the flesh there and teasing your nipples softly as you dipped fingers into his waistband and began pumping his cock in its entirety, using his flowing precum as a lubricant.
“Quiet, ah,” he grunted mid-sentence as you circled your thumb around his tip, dipping softly into his slit before moving back to his shaft, “agent.” Giggling in rebuttal, you began grinding your hips against his thigh in sporadically fast motions, matching the speed that your hand fucked him at. Frantically excited at the new sensation, his hand left your breasts and groped at your ass, snaking fingers underneath the hem of your panties to make contact with your warm skin as he tried to coax your thrusts to come faster and move you further against him.
He threw his head back against the desk and arched into your touch, pleasure rolling through him like waves. Noting he was obviously close, you repositioned yourself so that you lay beside him, mouth pressed against his ear as your hand worked him. “Don’t hold it.” You breathed as your tongue flicked sweetly over the shell of his ear, eliciting a low moan. “Come for me, baby.”
He moaned your name as you sucked lightly at the exposed flesh of his neck, leaving a little bruise and light remnants of your lipstick as you brought him over the edge. You muffled his exasperated pants with your mouth and tongue as he came, removing your hands from his pants before he could ruin your manicure. “Damn that was good.” He propped his head up with his hands and looked up at you with a satisfied look plastered upon his face as he lounged.
Sliding off the desk and readjusting your disheveled clothing, you smirked “Only the best for the birthday boy, now go get cleaned up. Maybe now I’ll get some work done.” After buttoning his jeans and languidly removing himself from the desk, he took your hands in his.
“Actually, I was thinking you could take off early. I’ll take you out to dinner, we could watch some fireworks, and I’ll make all of this up to you.”
“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows at him questioningly, “And how do you plan to do that?”
“Clock out to find out.” You laughed and grabbed your things from the drawer of your now-christened desk. Maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you checked out early.