Douglas waited for Martin to show in the regular alley. It was 2am and he had an appointment at half past. He shook his head, Martin was a brat but he was a hot brat.

The click of high heels echoed around the walls. Douglas smirked; being a graverobber had it's advantages.

Martin arrived bleary-eyed and heavy-lidded; scantily clad in a black negligee with red thigh-high stockings and those beautiful heels of his. He wrapped himself around Douglas, who shoved him to the ground; it did the little arse some good to be put in his place once and a while. "You're going to be late if we don't do this quickly."

"What's the matter, graverobber? Cant get it up if the boy's breathing?" Martin mocked, running his dark red lip through his teeth seductively.

Z me! Give me a hit. Now hurry!

I'm late, I'm late, so hurry!

Don't keep my surgeons waiting!

"Bitch, pay me," Douglas growled in Martin's ear.

"Later?" Martin inquired, pouting with, now large, eyes with fluttering eyelashes

"Okay. I'll see you later," Douglas relented, turning to go back to his other clients.

"Where ya going?!" Martin demanded, "Stay here!"

There's ways for me to pay, dear,

Other than dough...

As Martin pressed himself against the graverobber and placed his small, dexterous hand against his anatomy, Douglas smirked; there were definitely perks to his jobs.