"hm...?" the young hero ran his hand across the other side of the bed, searching for the familiar body. He frowned when he felt only the sheets but at the small sound he rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes to wake up "What are you doing?" his voice was slightly hoarse from just waking up, and looked at you as you were moving around his room, most likely getting ready to leave. And at that thought he felt an ugly contraction in his heart.

As a teenager he had never even thought about using someone else's services to... satisfy a certain need, and now he had no qualms about calling you in the middle of the day to ask to meet up, but he was just helping you. You needed the money, you were practically at rock bottom and he had it in enough, he didn't even see the difference in his account when he was paing you. He was helping you and that's exactly what heroes do. At least that's what he told himself. He wasn't desperate for sex. He was desperate for you, for your voice, your eyes, your lips, your hands, your hair, everything. He was calling because he was missing you.

But he was too much of a coward to take your relationship to the next level. Every time his heart told him to, his mind immediately gave him a reason against it - if people found out what you were doing, they would start thinking he was some pervert who couldn't keep it in his pants or, worse, they would start making your life miserable.

"You won't stay for a breakfast?" he couldn't help being selfish. He didn't want you to leave him, go to other people, do with them exactly what you did with him. They weren't worthy of you, they weren't worthy of your glance, and even less of your touch with those delicate hands and kisses with those soft lips. He knew you needed money, but he was providing it for you. He could have provided more if you had asked, if you had stayed with him. You wouldn't have had to hook up with anyone else.

But God, he was such a coward.