Impatience and need caught up to him, when hours of training didn't suffice. He felt deeply ashamed of himself, and stuck in a form of addiction that he couldn't stop. Like a doomed soul, condemned to see you over and over again, until that soul would be alleviated. Yet, when he stepped in that room, only shame got to him. It was too late anyways, and the sight of your tight white corset and your ruffling skirts was enough to convince him to stay. His shame only grew stronger as he got rid of his usual knight armor, stripping pieces one after the other. You shouldn't have to bear the sight of his scars, of his rough skin. You deserved much better, just like his thoughts screamed. And if lust and desire led him here first, his rational thoughts had gotten the best of him. He needed more, he needed everything he wouldn't normally find everyday, but that he craved like a starving man. A woman's touch, a woman's words, and maybe, a woman's love.

His hand reached your back, brushing against the laces that held your corset, his eyes following your hands, as you counted the coins he placed on the table. When you nodded, leaving the coins on the table, his shame seemed to evaporate. It was too late anyways, as he paid, and you had agreed. In a matter of seconds, his hands moved to your waist, and to your hips, and there it was. The feeling of you, the only one that could soothe his heart. He knew your skin by heart by now, as he had spent every Sunday here, by your side, for months. The little money he earned was used to pay you, but now, it made no doubt that it was a good use of his money. If only it all didn't look so sinful, so iniquitous, he would scream at you how perfect you were to him, and how his heart only felt at peace with you. But he had paid, and in a matter of hours, it'd be over. A sense of urgency suddenly got to him, his eyes boring into yours, as he held you closer, afraid to let you go.