Here's an excerpt:
Micah sat on the bed. "What do you think?" He gestured expansively around the small room.
"It's n-n-nice." Jonas silently cursed his stammer. It always came out in stressful situations, and while he'd sought this one out, that didn't make it any less nerve-wracking. If his parents should find out… He forced away the unpleasant notion. How would they ever know unless he told them? And there was no way that would happen.
He took a cleansing breath and let it out slowly. For the first time, he looked directly into the eyes of the whore he'd just hired. They were moss green, smiling, rimmed by thick lashes, with tiny smile lines at the corners. His hair is the color of beaten copper. It was unlike anything he'd seen before, and it set off Micah's eyes so perfectly that Jonas wondered if it was natural or contrived.
"So, Jonas, how would you like to spend the time we have together?" Micah smiled, and it was such a warm, giving expression that Jonas balked.
"I-I'm s-sorry. I have to go." He took a step backward toward the door, only to be stopped by Micah's gentle voice like a tug at his heart.
"Stay. Please." Micah held out a hand.
Jonas hesitated. He wanted to stay. Physically, he longed to stay and take advantage of this professional's willingness to please him. Despite his emotional diffidence, his body was eager. His cock was hard and had become so at his first sight of Micah leaning against the brothel's bar. Jonas was glad for the thigh-length coat he wore; it was far too heavy for the hot weather, but it kept his aroused state hidden.
Unaware of making the decision to do so, he sat on the foot of the bed at right angles to Micah. His heart raced. He wondered if Micah could hear it, then chided himself for such foolishness. I can do this. Jonas shot a nervous glance at the other man, looked away swiftly. If I just don't have to make eye contact again. It was absurd. What was he thinking?
"There's no need to rush," Micah continued.
"B-but there is," Jonas said quickly. "I-I'm expected… s-somewhere."
"That's all right. I'm ready for whatever you'd like."
Micah shifted on the bed and Jonas' gaze was drawn to him. The whore leaned back against the pillows at the headboard, one long leg stretched out, and the other bent at the knee. Jonas could see that he was erect, his cock tenting out the loose fabric of his pants. His arms were folded behind his head as if he knew he needed no help drawing attention to his engorged condition.
Jonas stared openly at the protruding fabric, eager for what it hid and uncaring whether his hunger was obvious on his face.
"I take it you like what you see."
Jonas could hear the smile in his voice, the teasing but tender tone. Jonas' gaze was inexorably pulled upward, over Micah's flat and muscular belly, across his smooth chest, up to his handsome face. Square, clean jaw; smiling lips; wide cheekbones; and soft green eyes. Micah's expression was open and without judgment. He was so beautiful that Jonas' breath caught.
"I--" He inhaled, said in a rush, "I've been alone a long time. Years, and he was… Anyway. I want to… take you. Fuck you. May I? Please?"