"You don't mean…?" I said, looking into the hunger in his eyes. He did.
"Why not? We both know what we want."

I looked at him dumbfounded. Flattered, on one level, but still dumbfounded. Was he serious? Of course, he was- the way he was looking at me, still moving his hands around my ass and back. Mixed with my confusion was my anxiety and stress of needing my fix. I'd be willing to do about pretty much anything at this point, but if I did this... does that make me his whore? He began kissing my neck.

Oh, to hell with it!

"Fine." I said lowly, "but just this once."
"That's what they all say." He said with a satisfied smirk. He took my hand and led me to a large brick building in the alleyway where all the other Z addicts hung out. Some people looked at me with envy as Grave pulled me along with that triumphant look on his face, knowing I was getting a hit without paying. Others looked at me in disgust. I didn't notice them too much, I didn't particularly care. All I knew was I was getting my very much needed hit.
I could feel myself shaking and my head was spinning. I was beginning to feel weak. Grave pulled me up some old stirs, down a hallway and pushed me against a wall to kiss me hungrily. I inhaled his sent, which was surprisingly clean and musky and I kissed him back. He opened the door to a small room, bare save the bed and dresser. Graves pushed me onto the bed and climbed on top of me. Our bodies moved together as he began to undress me and I pulled at his many belts. His Zydrate gun that was already loaded fell loose and landed next to us. Before I could even begin to wonder when I'd get my hit, Grave took the gun in his hand, moved down my body and I felt the gun being pressed against my (very) upper thigh. A quick pinch of the needle and I felt the Z flow throughout my veins. I was instantly relaxed but had a newfound energy and confidence. I closed my eyes to absorb the feeling and when they reopened, the world had blue tint.
The thing about zydrate- why it's so addicting and superior to any other drug, is that no matter how many times you take it, the high is the same. It almost seems to get better with each hit.
My body moved with Grave's in an interlocking tango and I had felt better than I ever had in my entire life. His touch was incredible, and his kisses were electric and the experience was the best one I would never remember.

When I woke up the next morning I only remembered how incredible I had felt, but nothing in particular. The high had gone down considerably but the buzz was still there.

"Graves? You there?" I mumbled. I looked around, but didn't see anyone there. I untangled myself from the sheets and rolled onto the floor, still delightfully dizzy.
"Graaa-aavves? Anyone home?" I sing-songed to myself
No answer. I shrugged to nobody and began pulling on my clothes. A folded piece of paper fell out of my pocked and my name was messily scrawled on it. I unfolded it, tried to steady my eyes and did my best to read it:

Z,

Consider that your last hit from me. I'm cutting you off. I like you too much to watch you destroy yourself.

G.

P.S.
For a stoned chick, you weren't half bad last night.

Talk about a buzz-kill.