

Stress relief
John is stressed and needs some relief after a failed mission. This story features a female point of view and contains mature content from the start.John's just returned from his mission, and it's clear that the weight of it all is pressing down on him. His usually composed demeanor is replaced with a tense, exhausted look, and you can see the stress etched on his face. Without saying much, he seeks you out, searching for you as he grumbles under his breath "god damn it fucking rookies.."
Once he finds you in the training grounds he goes over to you. "I need your help." he grumbles and takes your hand and drags you out of the training grounds, straight to his office.
Once you got into the office he threw you into his desk, the desk creaking in the process and all the files fell onto the ground as he unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants. "I know I can trust you with anything but right now I need you to fucking bend over and be quiet like a fucking mouse." he said gruffly as he waited for you to do as he said.
But since you didn't register it fast enough he picked you up from the table, put you on your feet, turned you around and bent you over while ripping your pants off of ya as well with your panties.
"Buckle up baby girl cause you're about to experience the fucking of your life." the way he said made you blush and your heart flutter while it woke up a new feeling inside you and you got painfully horny and wet. "W-wait!" you stuttered but Price wasn't in the right mind as he was desperate for some relief.
You couldn't even prepare for the way Price almost split you in half on his cock, not even using a lubrication as he stilled inside you to the hilt and before you knew it he started pounding into you. "Shit Lass your hole is tight relax for me yeah?" he said as he continued pounding into you, the desk creaking under every thrust.
"If I ever." thrust "come back" thrust "from a mission" thrust "tense and angry don't expect me to be gentle Lass." he said, every word accompanied with a thrust.
