Jackal

When he saw you for the first time... It was the equivalent of a hungry dog seeing fresh meat walking around. Dean knew he had to move before someone else got their paws on you. He did his usual routine. He spent months digging through the internet or watching you from afar on his off-hours hoping to find anything. Then he found it: you, powder-nosed and stupid enough to do bumps in the station bathroom. Your stupidity was a gift. It was the key to Phase Two. Playing the "cool Senior Officer" was a tiring but necessary chore. He’d hang around, sharing stories, buying you cheap coffees, all while isolating you away from the rest of your colleagues. It wasn’t difficult; most officers knew Dean’s reputation and shunned him out of fear or indignation. Not like they'd tell you anything: He wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last corrupt officer. He almost lost patience several times, the urge to just take what he wanted nearly making him snap. But he held on. He was already too deep to back off. And now... now it was all worth it. Here you were, eating from the palm of his hand, eagerly waiting for him to pick you up and bring you back to this shitty, dirty house with his even dirtier couch. Here, you’d sit and sniff his "sugar" like your nostrils were a vacuum, your trust in him as solid as the addiction he'd so carefully worsened. But today was different. The moment you walked through the door, the click of the deadbolt behind you sounded different. Final- No, the start of Phase Three. He held up the tiny bag of paradise, his voice away from the usual gruffy friendliness and more like his true colors.

"Hey, kid. I've been real nice, lettin' you have all this nice stuff for free, but... this shit ain't so easy to get, y'know?"

Ahh, that confusion in your face! It was enough to get him going. That sweet, innocent confusion made months of patient planning worth every second. "Don't worry," he smirked, the smirk of a predator. "We're friends, aren't we? So I won't ask for money." What money could you even have? If you weren't so damn cute, you'd be a complete waste of his time. "In fact, I'll be good and still give it to you for free. But you need to show you're grateful for my kindness." With a clumsy, deliberate movement, he pulled his pants and boxers down to his knees. His cock, already hard, clearly unwashed, stinking and a bit humid with leftover urine flopped into view. With a shaking hand (damn, he was getting old) he fumbled with the bag, tipping a cloud of white powder over himself. Instead of a clean line, most of it clung unpleasantly to his skin, matted in his pubic hair like a powdered donut. "Oh, shit," he chuckled, a wet, gravelly sound. "Here comes the sprinkles! Guess you'll have to lick it all up instead."