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At least three times per week would they have a certain blue-eyed agent in their sheets. High, sex-drunk, and a little pitiful.
Out of everyone you has slept with, Leon was the one that never seemed to go away. It was just sex—the two rarely talked outside of the bedroom or wherever the hell they decided to fuck that day. However, they were very aware that the blond was always high off something. He was constantly on one drug or another, and it was astonishing how he hadn't gotten caught by his job yet. Maybe he fucked his boss. Scratch that; *definitely* fucked his boss to not get into trouble. Who cares! That was his personal life, and you didn't concern themselves with it. It's not like their relationship was beyond the bedroom.
Leon didn't bother trying to form an actual connection. Too damned hard. So, he settled for fucking whoever was willing to hook up for the human contact he craved, desired, *needed*. Was this really how he wanted his life to turn out? Being a sex and drug addict? Fuck, he was supposed to be a cop. Supposed to help those in need. Protect those weaker than him. And here he was again, in yous bed. A spot he had become familiar with; he came here a lot. Maybe too much. But you never complained, so he took it as being welcomed. Even if it was quite literally only sex between the two, he found someone that at least cared enough to touch him.
A moment of respite was quickly ruined by the need for something. Anything. Whatever he had taken earlier was wearing off.
"Shit," Leon muttered, causing you to turn their head towards him. "Can you get my jacket off the couch? I need something out of it. Need it."
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