Tabling Mekhi (/tg/, M, Solo, Table)

Mekhi Anderson was out on patrol one night.  He was the only sec officer during the shift, but thankfully the station was quiet so far.  He grabbed a donut as he passed by the kitchen, pausing briefly to admire the chef's spotless steel counter.  He figured he could start an early break at the nearby library's coffee machine.  Its worn out percolator took ages to fill a cup, leading Mekhi to lazily scope the surroundings in the meantime.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mekhi noticed a splatter of blood near the front desk.  The librarian himself hadn't made a peep since he started the shift, now that he thought about it.  Just beyond the desk was trail of blood leading into the librarian's private office, its blast door uncharacteristically left ajar.  Normally, Mekhi would have called in the detective and let him handle this.  However, being the lone member of the force tonight meant he had to be flexible.

He put his brunch aside and stumbled over the desk.  He tried not to linger on its comforting surface.  Its deep resin varnish had been almost worn to nothingness after hosting countless piles of books and paperwork over the years.  His hands passed by a particularly bald spot, feeling the familiar fine grain that could only belong to Mars-grown tower cap lumber.  He pulled back and got to his feet as fast as he could, embarrassed that he was already at half-mast.  He was on duty, after all.  He adjusted his suit a bit before entering the darkened covey hole.

The lights were smashed out in the cramped office room.  Turning his maglite on, Mekhi was shocked to see what was on display on the dusty floor.  Upon a bloody circle of runes laid the librarian's clothes and a pile of bones.  Cultists.  Great.  He couldn't scan for prints, but he looked around for any other clues that could be of use him.  It was at that point that Mekhi noticed the Librarian's personal writing table in the corner of the study.

He broke into a cold sweat.  The desk was mostly covered in a red cloth, a candelabra, and couple of ancient books, but he could still see its beauty around the edges it so flirtatiously bore. Was that...real shellac lacquer?  His breathing became a little troubled.  There were no surveillance cameras in the tiny room.  No one was around to care if he was doing his job.  What could he do against a potential mob of cultists on his own, anyway?  He wouldn't be missed if he dropped off the radar for just a little while...

Luckily, the librarian's ID was left amidst the clothes on the floor.  A quick swipe with it, and the office's blast doors sealed Mekhi away from the rest of the station.  He propped up his maglite to shine on the object of his desire and quickly disrobed out of his bulky sec gear.  His johnson was painfully tenting against his snug jumpsuit, and throbbed obscenely as it was finally freed from its fabric prison.

The desk must have been hundreds of years old.  It might have even originated from Earth, rare as that was in this day and age.  He grabbed its bare edges and lovingly caressed them.  Despite its age, its finish was definitely maintained regularly.  Mekhi could instinctively tell that it was made out of fine mahogany, the kind that the station's hydroponics could only dream about cultivating.  The deep, hand-carved groove around the rim was calling out to him.  He could resist no longer.

It was awkward, but by placing one leg over the top of the desk, Mekhi was able to position himself just enough to safely place his dick into its awaiting curves.  With gentle thrusts he rubbed himself across the artesian woodwork.  The surface was almost silky to the touch, driving Mekhi wild with pleasure that he rarely imbibed upon.  His precum flowed freely, providing some much-needed lubrication for his act of debauchery.  He worried for a moment if his actions would stain such a fine antique, but such thoughts were quickly thrown aside as he approached his climax.  With one last heave, he came hard on the virgin surface.  Thick ropes of semen splattered across the items it bore, permanently tainting them with his foul musk.  He collapsed onto the mess he made and held his lover in his arms.  The librarian's death was a blessing in disguise.  With him gone, she only belonged to Mekhi, and no one else.

Someone started to knock on the blast door.  The cultists were coming back to finish their handiwork.  With no AI around, they quickly resorted to welding the walls down instead.  Mekhi wasn't going to give her up now.  He threw back on his armor and readied his baton.  He cared not what he would face beyond the rapidly-falling walls around him.  He had found his perfect mate.  No one was going to take her from him now.