It was a cold night, but he was sweating. The young boy hit every one of his hotspots. It amazed him how young and experienced he was. When they were done they laid next to each other, the young boy becoming comfortable in his mates strong warm arms. The man smiled he was complete with this young person. " Whiskers." He felt a movement within his arms. " Yes?" " Why are you a prostitute? Why can't you be mine, all mine." The boy sat up and looked at the man, the sun was coming up, the rays of light silently crepted across the bed. " For the hundredth time, I am not giving you free sex and I am not stopping my jobs. " JOBS, did you say the plural word jobs?" It surprised him that his boyfriend, who was also a prostitute had other jobs than this. He sat up abrubtly. " Whiskers!" The boy was standing up and putting on his clothing. " You could die working such dangerous jobs!" The blonde boy looked at him with anger in his eyes. " In the field that I work, you learned the hard way that death isn't the scary part." He bent down and kissed the man on the forehead, he took the money off the dresser next to them. He walked over to the door. " It's how you die that is." He walked out.