It was a universal truth among males that anytime you saw a guy get it in the nuts, you experienced a shot of phantom pain in your own croquet set. As Lassiter crouched beside the Brother’s pretzel of a body, he was feeling a little nauseous himself, and he took a moment to cup what hung between his legs—just to reassure the boys downstairs that however much of an iconoclast he was, some things were sacred.

Man, he wasn't going to need a stress test anytime soon. If his heart could get through a kiss from her, he could probably run a marathon. While dragging a car behind him. Sideways to the road.

United by their clasped hands, they became again the two halves, the light and the dark. The Destroyer and the Savior. A whole.

I have no words. Sixteen languages, but no words. -Vishous

The warrior (Zsadist) rolled his black eyes. "Come on, man. What does it matter to me? You, Tohr. Britney Spears.

When he pulled back, Blay frowned. "You're shaking." Was it possible he wasn't imagining this? "Am I?" "Yes." "I don't care. I love you. I love you so damned much, and I"m sorry that I wasn't male enough to admit—" Blay stopped him with a kiss. "You're plenty male enough now--the rest of it's in the past." "I just...God, I really am shaking, aren't I? Yeah. But it's okay — I've got you." Qhuinn turned his face into one of the male's palms. "You always have. You've always had me...and my heart. My soul. Everything.

Falling into ruin was a bit like falling in love: Both descents stripped you bare and left you as you were at your core. And both endings are equally painful.