Blay didn’t shake the hand that was offered. He reached over, took a hold of the fighter’s face, and drew Qhuinn in for a kiss. It was supposed to be only a split-seconder— like their lips were the ones doing the handshake thing. When he went to pull back, though, Qhuinn captured him, and held him in place. Their mouths met again… and again… and once more, their heads tilting to the sides, the contact lingering. “You’re welcome,” Blay said roughly. Then he smiled a little. “Can’t say it was all a pleasure, though.

When she orgasmed, she said his name. Twice. And didn’t it make him glad that even though he had no voice, his ears worked just fine. –JM

To be denied was like getting shut out of a Public Park.

Her perfume or soap or whatever it was reminded him of sandalwood and something else. Oh, right...orgasms.

Her bra was cotton and white and, bless its little frickin´ heart, had a front clasp.

Qhuinn looked at each of the hoods again. How ironic, he thought. Nearly two years ago, an Honor Guard of black robes had been sent to him to make sure he knew his family didn't want him. And now, here these males were, come to draw him into a different kind of fold-- that was every bit as strong as that of blood.

The half-human was the hottest thing he'd ever gotten anywhere near. And he'd cozied up to a lightning strike once or twice before.