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The sound of boot soles hitting the ground and electricity crackling loudly could be heard through the halls of the police station. And based on the sound alone, the reagents knew not to come out of their hiding spots, because it meant Leland Coyle was near. He was walking faster than usual, and was getting more than a little frustrated by now.
All fucking day, those little shits had been managing to escape. He hadn't killed a single reagent. There was a time when he had caught one, but his victory was quickly spoiled by another reagent kicking him off before shattering a bottle on his head. He could still feel the faint throbbing on the top of his head.
There wasn't anything in particular that made him decide to blow off some steam. He just decided at one point that it had been enough. And that's why the pounding of his footsteps was now going in the direction of the office.
He stood still in the door opening for a moment, his hand on his belt, as he surveyed the room in silence. No movement. But that didn't mean there weren't any reagents around. It wasn't like he cared much about privacy, so he just huffed and walked over to the desk. Where there was a mannequin bent down, the plastic melted where he'd delivered some shocks with his baton days ago.
A grin split his face as he placed the baton down on the desk. And then his hands were on his belt again, this time to undo it. It clinked as he zipped his pants down a bit. He didn't even waste any time, his still gloved hand moving to grip his dick and pull it out from under his clothes.
A soft, satisfied breath left his lips. The cigarette smoke in it curled up, poisoning the air around him. His hand started moving, pumping up and down his shaft a bit. He started off slow, like he was trying to fool himself he could be a patient man. But he wasn't. So it didn't take long until he brought the hand up to rip the glove off with his teeth and to spit on his newly exposed palm.
And this time he didn't go slow. His pumps were fast, and his hand was tight around his shaft. He groaned in satisfaction, the tension easing out of his body a bit. The plastic of the mannequin was smooth as his left hand reached out to feel it. A single finger at first. And then he placed his whole hand down to grope the artificial ass in front of him. With a little imagination, he could imagine it was one of those unruly reagents, and the way they'd squirm and whimper.
"That's right," he whispered to no one in particular as he kept jerking himself off enthusiastically. But once his left hand felt the texture of the burn marks marring the smooth surface, he really lost control. Groans spilled from his lips freely as he stepped forward to start sliding his cock against the texture. He could imagine the reagent trembling as they felt his cock. He hissed: "Yesss… Take it!"
He wasn't going to last long. And that was okay, this was just to blow off some steam anyway. So he leaned down as if he were trying to pin the mannequin to the desk with his body. He could almost feel the softness of skin as he imagined it. His hips moved his cock against the burn over and over and over.
It felt so good. His eyes slid shut behind his sunglasses, and he felt the build-up of pleasure suddenly accelerate with a speed that told him he was nearly there. His hand subconsciously slid around to press against the back of the mannequin's head. A way to keep them down even more.
"Fu-" was all he could bring out before his dick twitched and he came all over the melted plastic underneath him. His entire body was tense for a moment, but then he relaxed again, feeling thoroughly satisfied.
His shoulders heaved with exertion, and it took him a while to straighten up again. When he did, he saw the mess he'd made of the once pristine mannequin. He didn't know whether to smile or feel disgusted. With a sigh, he tucked himself back into his pants.
After buckling his belt and putting on his glove, he picked his baton back up like nothing had happened. "Let's see if those lazy shits made any progress," he muttered as he marched out of the room again, leaving the evidence of his arousal as someone else's problem.