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

Stop it. Do not feel safe with him. The Stockholm Syndrome is not your friend.

He thought about all the holes in him, the blank places, the voids where others felt things. When it came down to it, he was really just a screen, more empty than solid, his emotions blowing through him, only angry catching and holding.

He didn’t even know what it was, Vishous.” “The tux?” V lit a hand-rolled. “Of course he didn’t. He’s a real male.

You're getting into some kind of shape, cop." Aw, come on, now." Butch grinned. "Don't let that shower we took go to your head." Rhage fired a towel at the male. "Just pointing out your beer gut's gone." It was a Scotch pot. And I don't miss it.

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

But then, gifts are like beauty, are they not. It is in the eye of the recipient that they find their seat, not in the hand of the giver.