Threesome With Hariot and Melody

Melody sits on my living room couch with a stack of papers on her lap. She has a seductive smile on her face as she holds up one of the sheets pointing to the headline. "My parents read this very article and said I should get into journalism as soon as I can. Months later they say our conversation never happened."
"Rough." I respond.
Her hazel eyes travel to the tracks on my left arm. She says nothing and continues her rant. I read about twenty of her articles. They are well written but I've seen better.
She hugs her knees as she sits across from me. I can tell there is something on her mind in the way her eyes wander. God, I hate it when she keeps things to herself. This is why I hack every one of her accounts I possibly can.


She finally asks me, hours later, if she can have a intravenous shot. I feel the blood rush to my dick at the thought of getting her high.
"You will not tell anyone." I say as I band her up. "You will raise your arm the second I remove the tourniquet. And cover the injection site so you don't bleed on my couch."
She nods. She is excited. As much as I am with my intentions to watch her eyes roll back as the drug hits her. My libido tends to affirm to the use of drugs in barely legal teens. Not that I plan on fucking her tonight.
I poke her vein. She watches the blood appear and get pushed back in. I undo the rubber band as fast as I can, she raises her arm with her forefinger above the spot. She stretches her hand as she bends her arm, her eyes going half-lidded.
"Thank you." She says in a tone of pure intoxicated bliss.
She lays back and rests her head on my shoulder as I administer my own. A significantly bigger shot than I chose to give her. My tolerance has always been high, having never officially quit for longer than eight months.
I groan as the heroin hits me hard. It is the best feeling on earth. The feeling that makes love look like a sick human delusion we suffer from in reality.
I carry her to my room an hour later. She is having a junkie nap on my couch when I wake her by slapping her cunt.
"Gosh," she purrs. "What time is it?"
"Bedtime."
She assured me when she arrived that her friends were covering for her as she stayed at a "college student's" dorm for the night. Being stupid girls who didn't question anything, they facilitated her alibi. She is eighteen anyway. Her parents cannot realistically put living restrictions on a legal adult without kicking them out.
My peace is paramount. She sleeps beside me, moaning in her sleep to wet dreams as I stroke myself. I cum all over my hand minutes later to the curve of her slim waist in my hand. Her long legs wrap around my body as we sleep together and I kiss her forehead throughout the night.
I am not in love with Melody. I don't feel passion in the form of this particular virtue. I am a pleasure dom and she warms my heart in way that are aromantic. Which I choose to remain. I am a sapiosexual aromantic with no intentions to love a kid. Even going there in my mind throws me off.
I appreciate that she feels the same. We are a solely sexual couple. Platonic. My obsession with her being not tied to any emotion. Yes, I am possessive of her. I don't aim to marry her however.
I only want the best for Melody. And that is not going any farther than shooting heroin with her former psychiatrist.