PSoH: Looking for someone like you
Title: Looking for someone like you
Rating: R (For vaguely described sex.)
Word Count: 647
Characters: Leon, D, OFCs (Leon/OFCs, implied Leon/D)
Notes: So, once upon a time there was a porn battle over at InsaneJournal, and once upon a time someone posted a PSoH prompt along the lines of "Came from Bahrein, got to Beirut / Looking for someone comparing to you / Tearing down windows and doors / And I could not find eyes like yours." Even if I had been able to post this on time, this still wouldn't be a response to to that prompt. Pleasedon'tkillmeforwritingthis;_;.
Before, Leon had always had a thing for blondes. Red heads he liked a little, but blondes... Well, big breasted blondes had always been his weakness. Still, after he left LA he found himself skimming right over them.
He was drunk; all he remembered of her was long black hair and long nails that clawed the hell out of his back when he fucked her. The scratches ached for a week afterwards. Leon relished the sting - at that point, taking so many painkillers that he relished anything that felt real, because what he was doing, dragging himself all over the country looking for someone everyone else thought was dead, sure as hell didn't.
He didn't try to examine it too closely; he was usually too busy chasing up leads, or too dazed from the painkillers to bother with anyone anyway, so he barely noticed it for a while. But when he did - he noticed other things too.
Her name began with D - Donna, Darla, something like that. Her hair wasn't black, but it looked it in the bar he'd been in when he was using beer as a substitute for painkillers, and she had the wickedest smile he'd seen outside of the pet shop. He thought about that wicked smile against his cock sometimes, but - but the face that went with the smile belonged to someone he thought he'd known a hell of a lot better.
They'd all been - similar. Same sort of build (small and slight), same sort of colouring (dark hair and light skin). Similar to each other. He didn't really want to think about who else they were similar to.
She hiked the patterned silk up around her waist, the top of her dress (and Leon could hear the injured sniff, and the hiss of "I do not wear dresses, detective," without even thinking) falling open as her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Leon couldn't touch - he needed both arms to hold her and keep them supported against the wall without his bad leg collapsing on them - but he pressed his face against her throat and sucked hickeys to life on her white skin. When he came, it was to the faint, spicy scent of her perfume, and surrounded by body-warm silk.
Except one day, when he found himself spending the last of his money buying drinks for someone just because they looked like D.
The girl had black hair, cut just below her jaw line, a too-bright laugh that he knew was going to grate across his hangover if she stuck around till morning, and skin whiter than almost anything Leon had seen before. She kept looking up at Leon through her eyelashes in a way he almost recognised, her mouth curling up just slightly at one corner as she tucked her hair back behind her ears, instead of letting it fall into her eyes.
Her eyes were the wrong colour - brown, perfectly matching each other - but her lips were a dark purple. When Leon fucked her, his eyes kept being drawn to her mouth, to her pale skin. He didn't look at her eyes, because he didn't want to think of what colour he wanted them to be.
When he finally found D, the first thing he did was punch him in the face. D let him - let him, and Leon could've punched him in the face for that too - and they ended up staring at each other as though to ask "So, what the hell do we do now?"
In the end, Leon reached out - and for someone with one hell of a black eye growing, D was pretty calm about Leon making sudden movements - and folded his arms around D.
And for the first time since he left LA, the body in his arms felt right.
Rating: R (For vaguely described sex.)
Word Count: 647
Characters: Leon, D, OFCs (Leon/OFCs, implied Leon/D)
Notes: So, once upon a time there was a porn battle over at InsaneJournal, and once upon a time someone posted a PSoH prompt along the lines of "Came from Bahrein, got to Beirut / Looking for someone comparing to you / Tearing down windows and doors / And I could not find eyes like yours." Even if I had been able to post this on time, this still wouldn't be a response to to that prompt. Pleasedon'tkillmeforwritingthis;_;.
Before, Leon had always had a thing for blondes. Red heads he liked a little, but blondes... Well, big breasted blondes had always been his weakness. Still, after he left LA he found himself skimming right over them.
He was drunk; all he remembered of her was long black hair and long nails that clawed the hell out of his back when he fucked her. The scratches ached for a week afterwards. Leon relished the sting - at that point, taking so many painkillers that he relished anything that felt real, because what he was doing, dragging himself all over the country looking for someone everyone else thought was dead, sure as hell didn't.
He didn't try to examine it too closely; he was usually too busy chasing up leads, or too dazed from the painkillers to bother with anyone anyway, so he barely noticed it for a while. But when he did - he noticed other things too.
Her name began with D - Donna, Darla, something like that. Her hair wasn't black, but it looked it in the bar he'd been in when he was using beer as a substitute for painkillers, and she had the wickedest smile he'd seen outside of the pet shop. He thought about that wicked smile against his cock sometimes, but - but the face that went with the smile belonged to someone he thought he'd known a hell of a lot better.
They'd all been - similar. Same sort of build (small and slight), same sort of colouring (dark hair and light skin). Similar to each other. He didn't really want to think about who else they were similar to.
She hiked the patterned silk up around her waist, the top of her dress (and Leon could hear the injured sniff, and the hiss of "I do not wear dresses, detective," without even thinking) falling open as her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Leon couldn't touch - he needed both arms to hold her and keep them supported against the wall without his bad leg collapsing on them - but he pressed his face against her throat and sucked hickeys to life on her white skin. When he came, it was to the faint, spicy scent of her perfume, and surrounded by body-warm silk.
Except one day, when he found himself spending the last of his money buying drinks for someone just because they looked like D.
The girl had black hair, cut just below her jaw line, a too-bright laugh that he knew was going to grate across his hangover if she stuck around till morning, and skin whiter than almost anything Leon had seen before. She kept looking up at Leon through her eyelashes in a way he almost recognised, her mouth curling up just slightly at one corner as she tucked her hair back behind her ears, instead of letting it fall into her eyes.
Her eyes were the wrong colour - brown, perfectly matching each other - but her lips were a dark purple. When Leon fucked her, his eyes kept being drawn to her mouth, to her pale skin. He didn't look at her eyes, because he didn't want to think of what colour he wanted them to be.
When he finally found D, the first thing he did was punch him in the face. D let him - let him, and Leon could've punched him in the face for that too - and they ended up staring at each other as though to ask "So, what the hell do we do now?"
In the end, Leon reached out - and for someone with one hell of a black eye growing, D was pretty calm about Leon making sudden movements - and folded his arms around D.
And for the first time since he left LA, the body in his arms felt right.