Phobia

The flashing red beacon which sat atop the gate lit the small space as well as it could as you face off against the monster which had been pursuing you since the shuttle had dropped you off at the courthouse – Easterman’s demands that you destroy some evidence which had cropped up against Murkoff almost forgotten in the desperate scramble for survival.

Seeing the courthouse meant one thing. Coyle. And your history with Coyle was one which was mired in very bad decision making and a deep-seated thing for uniforms which always meant that a trial with the officer would result in more bodily fluids than most.

Not always though. Part of the fun was the game itself and if Coyle couldn’t catch you then he got nothing from you, a fact which always fuelled the fire of his actions as his predatory instincts lit up at the first hint of you being in his assigned arenas.

Like today.

"This here's my fucking courthouse.” Coyle spat, his stun baton battering off the nearby wall as he wrapped one hand around the thick metal gate which separated you. “Ain't no hiding from me in here and when this gate opens, you're gonna feel the full brunt of the laws we got."

Feeling bold despite the way your heart always hammers in your chest at his close proximity, you slide closer up to the gate and press yourself into the metal until your body is almost perfectly opposite his. Reaching down without breaking eye contact, you slip your fingers through the open slats of the gate and angle them enough that you can brush the very tips against the bulge of his cock as it remains hidden away behind his uniform.

"Is that what you want? You want to teach me a lesson? Show me some of that nasty police brutality?" Punctuating each question with a definite rub against his trapped cock, you don't miss the way his body leans into it - chasing the soft movements and trying to greedily steal what he can.

"You want to see police brutality, you stop evading the law and come through this fucking gate and even the good lord won't be able to forgive what I do."

"But what if I did? What if I cooperated?"

Glancing up at his face, his large shades hide his eyes from view but the shameless arousal which leaks from his sleazy features is unmistakable. He loved this as much as he hated it, loved the fantasy of having something wicked to chase and conquer and put into its place. Every tease and disrespect adds fuel to that already raging inferno but common sense in this place had fled you almost as quickly as the sanity had.

"What if I actually handed myself in to the strong police officer who wanted to capture me? Would you still want to be so mean to me?"

You continue with innocent eyes, caution thrown to the wind as you settle into your role and wind him up with little thought to the consequences.

"There's only one way of fixing whores like you." Coyle growls, his face pressing hard against the bars as he holds his cigarette close to the side of his face, pinched between two thick, scarred fingers. "You need a firm hand to remind you how to be respectable. Lucky I've got two firm hands and enough fucking patience to knock some sense into any pervert or whore who needs a lesson."

Smirking at that, you push your face up to meet his own, skin only separated by two inches of metal. The smell of cigarette smoke is strong, pairing with something almost like a storm - electricity swirling and just waiting to strike out against some innocent target.

His beard is as unkempt as the last time you saw him and you glance between his lips and your reflection in his shades as you speak in a low, teasing tone.

"Aren't you worried that if you put me over your knee then I might like it?"

You can see the effect your words are having on him. You see it in the way his hand tightens on the stun baton and his lips part slightly.

“Lord al-fucking-mighty, you’re a nasty piece of ass.”

“Yours if you can catch me.” Winking, you continue to stroke along the bulge of his cock. “But we both know that’s not gonna happen.”

Coyle grunts his annoyance at your confident tone, mouth muttering something intelligible as he presses his stun baton under his arm to free up one of his hands. Sliding his now-free hand though one of the larger slats, his palm and fingers press up hard to cup at your cunt, his lips hissing with a self-satisfied noise as you push into his touch.

“Game on, honey. And when you’re riding the lightning and my cock, I want to hear you scream. I want to hear the pretty songbird sing like a fucking canary.”

Game on indeed.

Snatching your body away from him, you are slow and methodical in your teasing as you slowly work around the ESOP to unbutton the shirt which clings to your frame. His hands pressing hard into the gate, you can feel Coyle’s eyes drinking in the free show as you slowly expose your tits to his hungry gaze.

“Maybe I’ll make you sing, Leland.” You speak his first name with a moan as your hand slips up to play lazily with your right nipple. “But we’ll see.”

Tucking your tits back into the shirt as you quickly redo the buttons, you fight the urge to slip back up to the gate and continue your little heavy petting session. Instead, you take another step back and fix Coyle with a heated look – the insanity of your fucked up game making adrenaline thrum in your veins with more intensity than any of those stupid syringes which litter the courthouse.

“Your turn, Officer Coyle.”

Haha see what I did there?

Yeah I can't draw people for shit so my furry ass made him a German Shepherd. And honestly I am way too happy about it. Figured if I'm gonna share it, might as well be today in celebration of Project Boneyard!

Speedpaint plus a nice close up for y'all as well :3