Rack And Ruin Quotes

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death, The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies, We, the people, must redeem The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers. The mountains and the endless plain-- All, all the stretch of these great green states-- And make America again!

And then . . . we’re going to get in my car.” I waited for him to elaborate on a destination. “And?” He gently kissed the nape of my neck. “What do you think?” I couldn’t help a small gasp of delight. “Oh, wow.” “I know, right? I was racking my brain for the best present ever, and then I realized that nothing was going to rock your world more than you and me in your favorite place in the entire world.” I swallowed. “I’m kind of embarrassed at how excited I am about that.” Never had I guessed my love of cars would play a role in my sex life. Eddie was right. Something had happened to me. “It’s okay, Sage. We’ve all got our turn-ons.” “You kind of ruined the surprise, though.” “Nah. It’s part of the gift: you getting to think about it for the next three days.

You're so cute." Dex let out a laugh. "And you're such a dork." "Says the guy who owns Star Wars Lightsaber chopsticks." "Sushi tastes better when you use the Force." "You're only strenghtening my case.

The discipline of suffering, of great suffering—know ye not that it is only this discipline that has produced all the elevations of humanity hitherto? The tension of soul in misfortune which communicates to it its energy, its shuddering in view of rack and ruin, its inventiveness and bravery in undergoing, enduring, interpreting, and exploiting misfortune, and whatever depth, mystery, disguise, spirit, artifice, or greatness has been bestowed upon the soul—has it not been bestowed through suffering?

Jesus Christ, MTV would make a mint with a reality TV show about their unit. The relationship drama alone would carry the ratings, forget the actual fieldwork.

Ash went over to the closet, and Sloane maintained his stoic expression. There was no way Dex would be hiding in the closet. It was too obvious. Ash opened the door, looking unimpressed. “There’s a fuckwit naked in your closet.” Dex looked up at Ash with wide eyes. “This isn’t what it looks like. I dropped some change, it rolled under the closet door, and when I went to pick it up, my clothes fell off. True story.

I guess, whenever I hear a song from back then or watch some cheesy movie I grew up with, it makes me feel… good. Like the world isn’t such a shitty place.

He lifted his face and gave his brother a pout. Where did these two learn to do that pouty-lipped thing? It was devious and highly effective.

Seriously? Do you ever not think about food?" "Of course I do," Dex replied with a smirk. "When I'm thinking about sex. Though sometimes I like to think of both at the same time." He wriggled his eyebrows, but his partner remained unimpressed. "Am I going to have to give you a time-out?

What did he say to make you bolt? Must have been big.” Ash leaned his arms on his legs so he could look at Sloane. “He let it slip that he loves me.” “Daley’s in love with you?

Sloan & Dex... “You skipped puberty didn’t you?” Dex let out a wistful sigh. “It wasn’t for me.” Sloane laughed as he carried Dex out of the room. “You’re hopeless.” “I’m also nonrefundable.” “Surely there’s a return policy.” “Forget it. You’re way past the thirty-day refund period. You’re stuck with me now. And before you ask, I’m also nontransferable and nonexchangeable. If you donate me to charity there’s no tax write-off because technically that would be considered Human trafficking.” “Wow. You’ve got your bases covered.” “You bet. Should have paid more attention to the Dexter J. Daley boyfriend agreement.” Sloane dropped him onto the counter and stepped between his legs to pull him close. “I don’t recall this boyfriend agreement.” “You might have been sleeping at the time, but sleep during the reading of the DJDBA is covered in the fine print. As long as you have a pulse, you’re considered present and accounted for.” “Duly noted.

When the head of state of family thinks first of gouging out an income, he must perforce do it through small men; and even if they are clever at their job, if one employ such inferior characters in state and family business the tilled fields will go rack swamp and ruin and edged calamities will mount up to the full.... This is the meaning of: A state does not profit by profits - Pound's translation of Confucius

The vision has passed, but he feels as though he is standing above a void, with nothing to support him, that his fall is about to begin, that he’ll shatter his bones on the bloody rack and ruin below.

Do you mind if I pause this incongruous exchange on water fowl to catch our guy?” Dex held back a smile. “Ooh, someone’s been playing online Scrabble with Cael again. How many points did incongruous get you?” When Sloane didn’t reply, Dex turned to his brother. “Fourteen,” Cael offered cheerfully, earning himself a scowl from Sloane. Dex shook his head. “Could have gotten twenty on Words With Friends.

Come,” he whispered. They all were welcome. They scattered for the racks, seizing their spiked swords, and their sharp axes, and the Bloody-Nine laughed to watch them. Armed or not, their death was a thing already decided. It was written into the cavern in lines of fire and lines of shadow. Now he would write it in lines of blood. “Die!” he roared, and the blade made circles, savage and beautiful, the letter on the metal burning red and leaving bright trails behind. And where the circles passed everything would be made right. The Shanka would scream and gibber, and the pieces of them would scatter, and they would be sliced and divided as neatly as meat on the butcher’s block The Bloody-Nine showed his teeth, and smiled to be free, and to see the good work done so well. He knocked a barbed sword from a Flathead’s hand, seized it by the scruff of the neck and forced its face down into the channel where the molten steel flowed, furious yellow, and its head hissed and bubbled, shooting out stinking steam. “Burn!” laughed the Bloody-Nine, and the ruined corpses, and their gaping wounds, and their fallen weapons, and the boiling bright iron laughed with him. Only the Shanka did not laugh. They knew their hour was come.

To a Felid, the neck was the most vulnerable part of the body. Sloane’s hand slid up Dex’s smooth, tan skin to his neck, and his fingers wrapped around it. Dex moaned. Did he know how he was exposing himself? The Felid inside Sloane stirred. At that moment Dex’s eyes opened, and he looked right into Sloane’s eyes. “I’d put my neck in your jaws without a second thought,” Dex said hoarsely, his eyes reflecting fire and a trust the likes of which Sloane had never seen.

That. Was. Fucking. Amazing,” Dex managed, his voice muffled against Sloane’s neck. All Sloane could do was nod.

Really? Your clothes fell off? That’s the best you could come up with?” Dex

You’re lucky you’re cute.” “And damn good in the sack,” Dex added. “And damn good in the sack,” Sloane agreed. “So…

Size fourteen, man!” Dex waved Sloane’s huge black boot at him. “Somewhere on the Hudson, a duck’s using your sneaker as a flotation device.” “Ducks

If the man in the street remembers anything about Herbert Hoover it is that his middle name was Laissez-Faire and he did nothing while the American economy went to rack and ruin. As usual the knowledge of the man in the street leaves something to be desired. The popular remembrance of Hoover's quiescence in the face of the depression is a myth. The Great Engineer may have had his faults, but fiddling while the economy burned was not one of them. “Do nothing” was never his motto; his middle name was actually Clark.

Ash is out of surgery. He has a shit-ton of recovery to do, but he’s going to live to roar another day.” Cael threw his arms around Dex and squeezed him tight. Dex chuckled and hugged him back. “Okay, Chirpy. Let’s go.” His brother pulled back and wiped a tear away. “I’m

I’ve been calling you for the past hour. I was driving by, so I figured I’d see if you were in, except you weren’t answering your door. I thought maybe something happened. You’re usually up by now.” Ash eyed him before cursing under his breath and storming into Sloane’s bedroom. He looked around the room before facing Sloane with an accusing glare. “I fucking knew it!” Sloane

Dex, what if Ash doesn’t make it?” Cael’s voice was quiet, as if saying the words alone might make it so. “Ash is a fighter. You know if death comes knocking, he will beat the shit out of it.” And Dex believed that. Ash was the hardest, toughest, meanest son of a bitch Dex knew. The guy wouldn’t go down without a fight. “What if he can’t?” Cael pulled away, his eyes puffy and red. “I need to be there with him. I need him to know I’m not pissed off with him. That I understand why he did what he did.” Just

We had sex in your bathroom during my party!” Sloane gaped at Dex who clamped his hands over his mouth, as if doing so might miraculously take back what he’d just blurted out. Ash’s words echoed Sloane’s thoughts. “What. The. Fuck! You had sex in my bathroom?” Ash went from flabbergasted to disgust in point five seconds. “Oh my God. Please tell me you didn’t jizz on my towels.” Dex held a hand up in promise. “I swear we didn’t jizz on your towels.” “Why should I believe you?” “Would it ease your mind if I told you I jizzed in Sloane’s mouth?” Sloane and Ash groaned at the same time. Just when he thought this day couldn’t get any more ridiculous. He should have known, really. “No. No, it doesn’t ease my mind. I’m going to have fucking nightmares for the rest of my life! I have to buy all new towels. Bleach the whole fucking place.” Ash shook his head, seeming unable to accept it. “My bathroom, man. You fucked in my bathroom.” He made a gagging sound, and Dex opened his mouth, but Sloane put his hand to it before his partner could say anything to make things worse because with Ash and Dex in the same room, things could always get worse. “Dex, can you wait downstairs. Please.” Dex

Now that is a sword,” Freddy said in awe as he went to look at an impressive saber hanging from the hat rack near the door. “Stay away from it,” she cautioned. “I’m sure it’s sharper than yours.” As usual, Freddy ignored her. “Just think what I could do with this,” he said as he lifted it off its hook. “So far I haven’t seen you do anything with a sword, my boy,” Oliver remarked dryly. “Though I shudder to think what your cousin would attempt.” Maria glared at Oliver, which only made him laugh. Meanwhile, Freddy unsheathed the saber with a flourish. “Curse it, Freddy, put it back,” Maria ordered. “What a fine piece of steel.” Freddy swished it through the air. “Even the one Uncle Adam gave me isn’t near so impressive.” Maria appealed to Oliver. “Do something, for pity’s sake. Make him stop.” “And get myself skewered for the effort? No, thank you. Let the pup have his fun.” Freddy cast him a belligerent glance. “You wouldn’t call me a pup if I came at you with this.” “No, I’d call you insane,” Oliver drawled. “But you’re welcome to try and see what happens.” Don’t encourage him,” Maria told Oliver. The door opened suddenly, and Freddy whirled with the sword in hand, knocking a lamp off the desk. As the glass chimney shattered, spilling oil in a wide arc, the wick lit the lot, and fire sprang to life. Maria jumped back with a cry of alarm while Oliver leaped out of his chair to stamp it out, first with his boots and then with his coat. A string of curses filled the air, most of them Oliver’s, though Freddy got in a few choice ones as the fire licked at his favorite trousers. When at last Oliver put the flames out and nothing was left but a charred circle on the wood floor, dotted with shards of glass, the three of them turned to the door to find a dark-haired man observing the scene with an expression that gave nothing away. “If you hoped to catch my attention,” he remarked, “you’ve succeeded.” “Mr. Pinter, I presume?” Oliver said, tossing his now ruined coat and singed gloves into a nearby rubbish pail. “I hope you’ll forgive us for the dramatic intrusion. I’m Stonevi-“ “I know who you are, my lord,” he interrupted. “It’s what you’re doing here setting fire to my office that I’m not certain of.

Did you say—you love me?” Sloane took a step back, and Dex held his hands up, praying his partner didn’t do what he looked like he was about to do. Then he remembered his brother was in the room. Double shit. Sloane seemed to sense his thoughts. “Cael knows about us.” “What? When the fuck did that happen?” What in the ever-living fuck of fucks is going on around here? Cael glared at him. “Thanks, bro.” Dex didn’t have time to answer his brother because something in his gut told him he had to do something fast. Sloane was about to bolt. Dex could see it in his eyes. “You didn’t answer my question,” Sloane demanded softly. “And don’t try to play it off. I know you too well by now.” What was he supposed to do? Lie? He could lie. No, he was a shitty liar. But he could…. Fuck it. “Yes. I love you.” “When?” Sloane asked, his voice growing more distant. When? “I don’t know? It’s not like I marked it on my calendar.” “Don’t.” It was a subtle but grave warning. Dex wasn’t trying to be a smartass. It’s just what his brain went to when he was on the verge of freaking out about something. And if there was ever a time to freak out about something, this was it. “I know it’s too soon, which is why I wasn’t going to say anything, but with everything going on, it just slipped.” “So you were going to keep it from me?” Dex felt himself deflate and he shrugged. “What’s the right answer here, Sloane?” There was none. They both knew it. He took a step toward Sloane, his heart breaking when Sloane pulled back. “I need some air,” Sloane said, backing up until he hit the security panel. He turned and entered his security code. Dex could feel it all crumbling around him, and he felt sick to his stomach. Even then, he stayed where he was, refusing to force Sloane. “Can we please talk about this?” “Not right now. I need some space.” The door had barely finished opening before Sloane squeezed through and was off, taking Dex’s heart with him.

I want you to ride me.” “Fuck.” Dex shivered from head to toe. “That’s the idea.” Sloane put his hands behind his head, and Dex crawled over him. He sat on Sloane’s thighs and wrapped his lubed hand around Sloane’s hard cock, sliding it up to the head and drawing a sharp breath from Sloane. He loved watching his partner. The heated look in Dex’s eyes, the way those plump lips were slightly parted as he slowly eased his hand down to the root, twisting as he went. Sloane closed his eyes with a moan. When Dex had slathered him up good and driven Sloane to the point where he thought he’d come, he grabbed Dex’s wrist and pulled him over. He needed to taste those lips, to claim them as his, and he started by forcing his tongue inside Dex’s mouth, his kisses hungry and needy. Gripping Dex’s ass, Sloane moved Dex onto him, pulling away from Dex’s lips long enough to demand hoarsely, “Fuck yourself on my dick.” “Oh God.” Dex shifted back and reached behind him. He took hold of Sloane’s cock, and Sloane felt it being pushed between Dex’s ass cheeks. With gritted teeth he watched Dex gradually push himself farther back onto Sloane. “Fuck. Dex,” Sloane groaned, his hands gripping fistfuls of the sheets as he felt the tightness of Dex’s ass swallowing Sloane little by little. Sloane’s brow was beaded with sweat, and he gritted his teeth until Dex was sitting on him with Sloane shoved all the way up. Dex leaned slightly forward, and Sloane ran a hand up his lover’s chest. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” Dex

according to what we are and to how they appear to us. Now, since what appears to us is so uncertain and controversial, it is no longer a miracle if we are told that we can affirm that snow looks white to us, but that to establish if it is such in its essence and in truth is more than we are able to resolve; and, with this beginning shaken, all knowledge of the world must necessarily go to rack and ruin. What about our senses themselves contradicting one another? To the sight a painting seems embossed; when handled it seems fat. Shall we say that musk, which smells good and tastes bad, is agreeable or not?

I was out of work while all around smelled millions, even the air outside. It was an unforgettable smell of public debt, oilfields, gold, bank guarantees, diamond ... I wanted to breathe in the air of easy cash Moscow, to revel and roll in this air. I can feel the smell of money in the wind on my face. This air was used to make up funds overnight, to make a fortune, to go rack and ruin and grew rich again. It was going free across the wreckage of the sold out Soviet empire.

Everything tends to become a satellite - even our brains may be said to be outside us now, floating around us in the countless Hertzian ramifications of waves and circuits. This is not science fiction, merely a generalization of McLuhan's theory of the 'extensions of man' . Every aspect of human beings - their bodies in their biological, mental, muscular or cerebral manifestations - now floats free in the shape of mechanical or computer-aided replacement parts. McLuhan, however, conceives of all this as a positive expansion - as the universalization of man - through media. This is a very sanguine view. The fact is that all the functions of man's body, so far from gravitating around him in concentric order, have become satellites ordered excentrically with respect to him. They have gone into orbit on their own account; consequently it is man himself, in view of this orbital extraversion of his own functions, his own technologies, who is now in a position of ex-orbitation and ex-centricity. Vis-a-vis the satellites that he has created and put into orbit, it is man with his planet Earth, with his territory, with his body, who is now the satellite. Once transcendent, he has become exorbitate. It is not just the functions of man's body which, by becoming satellites, make man himself into a satellite. All those functions of our societies - notably the higher ones - which break off and go into orbit, contribute to the process. Loan, finance, the technosphere, communications - all have become satellites in an inaccessible space and left everything else to go to rack and ruin. Whatever fails to achieve orbital power is left in a state of abandonment which is permanent, since there is now no way out of it via some kind of transcendence.

The chamber was a cool, chill black- as if we'd stepped inside the mind of some sleeping beast. And within its round space gleamed glittering islands of light. Of jewels. Ten thousand years' worth of treasure. It was neatly organised, in podiums and open drawers and busts and racks. 'The family jewels,' Rhys said with a devious grin. ... ...carved into the rock was an entire wall of crowns. They each had their own resting place, lined with black velvet, each illuminated by- 'Glowworms,' Rhys told me as the tiny, bluish globs crusted in the arches of each nook seemed to glitter like the entire night sky. In fact... What I'd taken for small faelights in the ceiling high above... It was all glowworms. Pale blue and turquoise, their light as silken as moonlight, illumining the jewels with ancient, silent fire. 'Pick one,' Rhys whispered in my ear. 'A glowworm?' He nipped at my earlobe. 'Smartass.' He steered me back toward the wall of crowns, each wholly different- as individual as skulls. 'Pick whichever crown you like.' 'I can't just- take one.' 'You must certainly can. They belong to you.

The popular novelist E. M. Delafield gave it as her belief that the English Creed included four elements: firstly that ‘God is an Englishman, probably educated at Eton, secondly that all good women are naturally frigid, thirdly that it is better to be dowdy than smart’, and lastly that ‘England is going to rack and ruin’. When Nirad Chaudhuri visited England in 1955, he told a politician how welcoming and civilized he found the country. ‘You are seeing it at a very favourable time,’ came the Eeyoreish reply.

Whether it’s a symphony or a coal mine, all work is an act of creating and comes from the same source: from an inviolate capacity to see through one’s own eyes—which means: the capacity to perform a rational identification—which means: the capacity to see, to connect and to make what had not been seen, connected and made before. That shining vision which they talk about as belonging to the authors of symphonies and novels—what do they think is the driving faculty of men who discovered how to use oil, how to run a mine, how to build an electric motor? That sacred fire which is said to burn within musicians and poets—what do they suppose moves an industrialist to defy the whole world for the sake of his new metal, as the inventors of the airplane, the builders of the railroads, the discoverers of new germs or new continents have done through all the ages? . . . An intransigent devotion to the pursuit of truth, Miss Taggart? Have you heard the moralists and the art lovers of the centuries talk about the artist’s intransigent devotion to the pursuit of truth? Name me a greater example of such devotion than the act of a man who says that the earth does turn, or the act of a man who says that an alloy of steel and copper has certain properties which enable it to do certain things, and it is and does—and let the world rack him or ruin him, he will not bear false witness to the evidence of his mind! This,

There is no darkness. It is all inhabited. It is dense with what has been cast off and barely survived, the events that also have half-lives. And the buildings, the inventions, the plazas and kisses. These are the bones of the known and the mysterious, all of the blue things racked by the moon. This is what glistens in the dark, the underbelly where we have lit matches and blown out candles and intoned wishes. It is in these clairvoyant ruins where we live between improvisations, consecrating the moments with our prayers and lies. Always we are abandoning the journey of recognizable destinations, the harbor with the breakwater and buoys. It is in the ruins of this darkness that we absolve the ones who love us badly. In the darkness where we know ourselves absolutely and we are fueled by ancient griefs and luminous without stars.

SLOANE WAS forced to see his stylist thanks to the horror inflicted upon his flowing locks by his sergeant.

Sloane ran a hand up his lover’s chest. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” Dex

How is it the people I love the most are the ones listening to me the least? First Sloane. Now you? Next thing you know, dad’s going to be—” “Stop.” Dex stilled. His eyes on Sloane. Now what? “What did you just say?” Had

You really thought he wouldn’t run? He’ll always run. From you. “Come

You fucked up. The first guy you could see yourself spending your life with, and you fuck it up within months.

Dex to become such a big part of his life so quickly, and he sure as hell hadn’t expected Dex to fall in love with him. Gabe

Stop running. You’ve got something good. Don’t fuck it up.” Sloane

You probably know why I’m here. If you could hear me, talk to me, you’d probably ask me what the hell took me so long. Then you’d tell me what’s been in my heart for months now. I know you’d want me to be happy, and I am. When you left, I thought you’d taken everything I had with you. Dex helped me see how wrong I was. You left everything there for me to give to someone else crazy enough to love me. I’ll never forget you, Gabe.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a long chain, the small dog tags clinking together. Sloane didn’t bother to hide the tears in his eyes. He smiled and let out a shaky breath before placing the dog tags on the tombstone. He put his fingers to his lips for a kiss before moving them to the black marble. “Good bye, sweetheart. Thank you for everything.” Sloane

Without hesitation, Sloane reached over to the nightstand, dug in the top drawer and came back with the bottle of lube. He handed it to Dex. “Fuck me.” Dex stared at him. He took the bottle from Sloane and nodded. Sloane

Their sex was usually heavy, hard, and fast. It was fun and hot as hell. This time was different. This time it shook Sloane down to his core. He felt every breath against his skin, every fiery caress. His muscles bunched and strained, his body felt as though it was about to shatter, his heart ready to break. For a slip of a moment, he almost panicked, afraid he couldn’t take the intimacy or unspoken promises Dex offered. Just as the thought entered his mind, he felt Dex’s weight once again, as if he’d known what Sloane was thinking. Kisses landed beneath his ear before Dex snapped his hips, and Sloane gasped. “Again,” Sloane pleaded, reaching underneath himself to wrap a hand around his painfully hard erection. Dex did as he asked, snapping his hips over and over, driving himself deep into Sloane with each thrust. Their breaths came out ragged, and Dex craned his neck to kiss Sloane, their lips delivering sloppy urgent kisses. The bed moved beneath them, and Dex’s movements grew erratic. “Sloane….” “Yes.

Yes. Fuck. Do it.” Sloane was on the verge of coming himself, and he felt the pressure rising as Dex’s hips lost all rhythm. Dex straightened, and his fingers grabbed Sloane’s hips. “Oh God,” Dex moaned, the sounds of his heavy breaths and moans sending Sloane over the edge. He came, his muscles tightening around Dex’s cock. Dex let out a strangled cry as he came inside Sloane, the sensation drawing out Sloane’s orgasm. He fell into his release, loving the feel of Dex coming inside him. Once Dex was spent, he draped himself over Sloane again. His fingers tenderly stroked Sloane’s arms, his cheek nuzzling Sloane’s back. “We’re

They had sex in the living room, kitchen, on the stairs, and in the shower. It had been fast and hot as fuck.

We’ve been exclusive always. Unless we count your unhealthy affair with coffee.” Dex

Anyway, I was thinking that maybe we should… ditch the condoms.

Dex rubbed his fingers over the stubble on Sloane’s jaw when he heard it. Wait, was that…. No, it couldn’t be. Could it? He discreetly lowered his gaze to Sloane’s, meeting his lover’s wide eyes and confirming Dex wasn’t hearing things. “Holy shit, you’re purring!” Sloane

Relax,” Dex said, running his fingers through Sloane’s hair. “Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and relax.” He continued to run his fingers through his lover’s hair, caressing his jaw and stroking his cheek until Sloane’s breathing evened out. Then Dex heard it again. A faint rumbling coming up from Sloane’s chest, vibrating against Dex’s leg. Sloane opened his eyes, his bottom lip jutted out. “I’m fucking purring.” “But you know what?” Dex lowered his head toward Sloane’s and cupped his face. “What?” “It’s kind of adorable.” Sloane’s

His tongue explored his partner’s mouth while his hand palmed both their erections. Slowly he stroked their cocks, occasionally giving them a squeeze and enjoying the sounds Dex made as he writhed with need. His partner arched his back, his legs spreading for Sloane. “Sloane,” Dex moaned against his lips. “Yes?” He knew what Dex wanted, but he loved hearing him say it. His partner’s fingers dug into Sloane’s shoulders, and Sloane groaned his pleasure. “Please, fuck me.” Sloane smiled against Dex’s lips as he deepened the kiss. He took the bottle of lube lying beside him on the mattress and sat back on his heels. With a wicked grin, he handed it to Dex. “Make me wet, baby.” Dex swallowed hard and sat up. He took the bottle from Sloane, the flush on his face travelling from his cheeks to the tips of his ears and down to his shoulders. Sloane resisted the urge to pounce on his partner. Instead he watched Dex intently as he squeezed a generous amount onto his hand. He closed the bottle and tossed it to one side before getting on his knees. When Sloane got on his back, Dex gave him a puzzled look. “I

Dex gave him a wicked smile. He sat back and palmed his erection, jerking himself off unhurriedly. Just when Sloane thought the sight would drive him crazy, Dex started to move. Sloane’s hands found Dex’s hips, and he couldn’t hold back his growl when Dex’s gentle rocking turned into Dex fucking himself on Sloane just like he’d asked. “Oh fuck.” Sloane couldn’t have been more grateful to Dex for bringing up ditching the condoms. In truth, Sloane had been prepared for the question even if he hadn’t thought it would come up so soon. But there was nothing stopping them from taking this step, except for Sloane’s own apprehensions. Now that he was inside Dex like this, every touch, every caress of skin on skin made him desperate for more. More of Dex. More of them. More of what could be. The idea terrified him, and when that happened, he focused all his energy and attention on the beautiful man in front of him. It was going to be difficult to keep this up, but he forced himself to hold back for a little while longer, to appreciate what he was being given. Dex rose and fell back onto Sloane, his moans and whimpers driving Sloane close to the edge. Dex’s moves quickened as did his hand on his own cock. “Sloane….” Sloane

Sloane was beyond speech. He simply nodded, mesmerized by Dex’s face as he came, shooting his load across Sloane’s chest. The way he threw his head back, exposing his neck, his lips parting as he moaned. Sloane watched Dex’s whole body tremble before him, his lover’s skin flushed and glistening with sweat. As Dex climaxed, Sloane was squeezed tightly and he lost it. Dex fell forward onto Sloane’s chest in exhaustion, and Sloane grabbed hold of Dex’s hips, forcing his lover down as he thrust up. The sound of skin slapping skin urged Sloane on, and he lost his rhythm as he pounded into Dex. Sloane buried his face against Dex’s neck and breathed in deeply, the scent intoxicating. His hips snapped against Dex’s ass bringing a gasp from his lover. Dex slipped his fingers into Sloane’s hair and held on tight. Sloane’s climax slammed into him, and he thrust deep into Dex. He continued to push, feeling his muscles tense and his body burn. When he’d emptied himself completely into Dex, he let his arms fall to his side. He was dripping with sweat and out of breath, with the strength to do nothing but lie there with Dex sprawled on him, both of them trying to catch their breaths. “That.

Their secret was quickly becoming not so secret. “He really makes you happy?” Sloane didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” Ash went pensive once again. “I’m not going to be nice to him ’cause he’s your boyfriend.” Sloane held back a smile. “Nothing has to change.” “It already has.” “Are you okay with that?” “You and Daley?” Ash gave a snort. “Stupid question?” “Doesn’t matter what I think. What matters is that you’re happy. Just be careful. I don’t think I need to tell you what’ll happen if this shit gets out. I don’t want them transferring you.” “Cael

Hobbs lowered his head, a soft moan coming from him. He nudged closer to his partner, but Calvin ignored him. Usually Calvin would oblige with a scratch behind the ear to reassure him. “I

Dex took advantage of the flailing perp. He tripped the guy and threw all his weight into the large Therian. They both hit the ground rolling. They thrashed and struggled with Dex getting slammed hard against the solid ground, forcing the air out of his lungs. He tried to get to his earpiece, but his hand was forced against the ground. With his free hand, he grabbed a fistful of the Therian’s mask and pulled. Auburn hair sent his stomach plummeting, and then his worst fear was confirmed. “Ash?” Dex rolled onto his side, unable to believe what he was seeing. “Fuck,” Ash snarled. His eyes suddenly went wide, his gaze somewhere behind Dex. “No! Wait—” Dex’s world went black.     D

Your commitment-phobe boyfriend just bailed on you because you let slip that you love him, which by the way, has to be the shittiest declaration of love I’ve ever heard. And you’re going to lecture me on relationships?” “Ouch,

Did he run from Gabe?” Ash shook his head. “No.” “So it is me. What do you know, I can feel shittier.” “Think about it for a moment, Dex.” “He loved Gabe, but he never ran.” Dex racked his brain for a reason. Why hadn’t Sloane run from Gabe? He’d loved him. Why did the thought of Dex loving Sloane have the guy taking off? Ash answered for him. “It didn’t scare him.” Dex

Sloane didn’t know what to think about Dex challenging Ash to a fight. He must have been so angry and hurt. “What

How could he need someone so badly yet be so terrified of getting close to him? “You

Tell me,” Sloane said quietly, not merely wanting to know, but needing to know. His fingers stroked Dex’s jaw, feeling the stubble growing in. Scruffy looked good on Dex. “The

Sloane had never bottomed before. Not because he had any kind of hang-ups about it. He simply never felt comfortable enough with someone to let his guard fully down. To trust someone so completely he’d give himself over to them. Now he did. He trusted Dex completely. Sloane changed his position. He grabbed a pillow and shoved it under his hips, hearing Dex’s soft curses behind him, followed by a sharp intake of breath when Sloane lowered himself to his stomach and spread his legs. The

The mattress shifted as Dex positioned himself between Sloane’s legs. Sloane concentrated on steadying his breathing and relaxing the tension in his muscles. He heard the pop of the lube’s cap, heard the liquid being squeezed out and the cap once again closed. The mattress shifted again, and he felt Dex’s lips press to his searing skin. Sloane groaned and squirmed as Dex left kisses on his neck, shoulders, down his back, his tongue poking out to trace a line down Sloane’s spine to his ass. A slick finger pressed into him, and Sloane bucked. “Dex,

Dex, please.” “Relax. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” It was an odd sensation, feeling Dex’s fingers inside him, but Sloane relaxed just as Dex asked because he believed Dex. The sound of Dex moaning as he spread the lube over his dick had Sloane painfully hard, and he thrust against the pillow. Soon, a warm hand pressed gently down on Sloane’s lower back. A sharp sting that had Sloane hissing followed it. He gritted his teeth at the pain of being penetrated. Dex moved slowly, taking care with him, murmuring soft words of encouragement as he pushed inch by excruciating inch. Sloane sucked in a breath, and Dex paused. “Don’t stop,” Sloane pleaded and was relieved when he felt Dex once again pushing in until his partner was buried to the root, stretching and filling him. The pain soon gave way, and Sloane pushed his ass up and back, hissing at the delicious friction. “Oh God. Dex….” On

On his cue, Dex moved his hips, sliding in and out until he had a steady rhythm. His hands caressed Sloane as he moved against him. He draped himself over Sloane’s back. “You don’t have to run anymore,” Dex murmured, his fingers lacing with Sloane’s. “Stay. Right here with me.” He gave Sloane’s fingers a gentle squeeze before letting go to move down Sloane’s body. Dex pressed his lips to the back of Sloane’s neck again, his kisses sending a shiver through him. His skin beaded with sweat, and he felt as if he might melt through the mattress. Their

[a]nd the Pig Man came in from Waitomo and swore that if Louisa didn't marry him he'd damn well vote Labour at the next election. "And I don't care if the country does go to rack and ruin," he said.

The middle classes did not go to public hospitals; those places were reserved for workers, child-mothers, and those unfortunates who had wasted their inheritance, ‘squandered the lot’, and thus deserved the worst punishments, those, in short, who had gone to rack and ruin. Families would warn their wastrel offspring, their prodigal sons, that ‘You’ll end up in hospital!’, that is, poor, alone and ashamed . Seeing the forbidding exteriors of these institutions, their gloomy corridors, the miserable huddles of mourners that sometimes emerged, used to make me think vaguely of leper colonies.

Nothing! thou elder brother even to Shade: That hadst a being ere the world was made, And well fixed, art alone of ending not afraid. Ere Time and Place were, Time and Place were not, When primitive Nothing Something straight begot; Then all proceeded from the great united What. Something, the general attribute of all, Severed from thee, its sole original, Into thy boundless self must undistinguished fall; Yet Something did thy mighty power command, And from fruitful Emptiness’s hand Snatched men, beasts, birds, fire, air, and land. Matter the wicked’st offspring of thy race, By Form assisted, flew from thy embrace, And rebel Light obscured thy reverend dusky face. With Form and Matter, Time and Place did join; Body, thy foe, with these did leagues combine To spoil thy peaceful realm, and ruin all thy line; But turncoat Time assists the foe in vain, And bribed by thee, destroys their short-lived reign, And to thy hungry womb drives back thy slaves again. Though mysteries are barred from laic eyes, And the divine alone with warrant pries Into thy bosom, where truth in private lies, Yet this of thee the wise may truly say, Thou from the virtuous nothing dost delay, And to be part with thee the wicked wisely pray. Great Negative, how vainly would the wise Inquire, define, distinguish, teach, devise, Didst thou not stand to point their blind philosophies! Is, or Is Not, the two great ends of Fate, And True or False, the subject of debate, That perfect or destroy the vast designs of state— When they have racked the politician’s breast, Within thy Bosom most securely rest, And when reduced to thee, are least unsafe and best. But Nothing, why does Something still permit That sacred monarchs should at council sit With persons highly thought at best for nothing fit, While weighty Something modestly abstains From princes’ coffers, and from statemen’s brains, And Nothing there like stately Nothing reigns? Nothing! who dwell’st with fools in grave disguise For whom they reverend shapes and forms devise, Lawn sleeves, and furs, and gowns, when they like thee look wise: French truth, Dutch prowess, British policy, Hibernian learning, Scotch civility, Spaniards’ dispatch, Danes’ wit are mainly seen in thee. The great man’s gratitude to his best friend, Kings’ promises, whores’ vows—towards thee may bend, Flow swiftly into thee, and in thee ever end.

Everything that just recently had seemed eternal and solid as rock was so quickly turned into rack and ruin you just wanted to shut your eyes and forget.

I’m also nonrefundable.” “Surely there’s a return policy.” “Forget it. You’re way past the thirty-day refund period. You’re stuck with me now. And before you ask, I’m also nontransferable and nonexchangeable. If you donate me to charity there’s no tax write-off because technically that would be considered Human trafficking.” “Wow. You’ve got your bases covered.” “You bet. Should have paid more attention to the Dexter J. Daley boyfriend agreement.” Sloane dropped him onto the counter and stepped between his legs to pull him close. “I don’t recall this boyfriend agreement.” “You might have been sleeping at the time, but sleep during the reading of the DJDBA is covered in the fine print. As long as you have a pulse, you’re considered present and accounted for.” “Duly

Maybe even… love him. “Sloane….

We’re definitely doing that again,” Sloane said hoarsely. Dex chuckled, the rumble felt against Sloane’s back. “Any time.” “So what happens now?” “What do you want to happen?” Dex asked softly. It tugged at Sloane’s heart knowing Dex would do whatever Sloane needed. The only problem was, Sloane didn’t know what he needed. “Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.” “How about, we keep doing what we’re doing and see where it goes?” Sloane’s

Someone snitched on me. A snitch snitched on the snitch,” Austen said with a laugh then groaned. “You’ll

Ash put his hand on Sloane’s shoulder, his amber gaze unwavering. “I know I’ve disappointed you, but believe me when I say I’ll always have your back.” “That’s

Agent Keeler is the mole we planted. He’s been working undercover. The objective was to send an agent to infiltrate the Coalition, discover the mole from the inside out. Keeler’s combat skills, field experience, and brash character made him the perfect candidate for the assignment. We knew the Coalition would jump at the chance to recruit him if they believed he could be swayed to fight for their cause. “I instructed Keeler to play sympathetic to the Coalition’s purpose. It didn’t take long for our mole to make contact. Keeler received an anonymous text giving him a date, time, and place. He showed, spoke to someone who wasn’t the mole but had contact with him or her. Keeler negotiated the terms. He would join their ranks and provide intel so long as Coalition members kept their distance from THIRDS agents, specifically his team. To maintain the illusion he’d gone rogue, it was necessary for Destructive Delta to be kept in the dark. I then fed Keeler inside information to pass along.” All

Rosa and Letty came running over to Dex and grabbed his hand, hauling him over to one of the tables where the biggest, most amazing pornographic cake ever was laid out. Dex doubled over laughing. Before him was the biggest puckered ass he’d ever seen. It came complete with balls and cock. Across the ass in white squiggly frosting were the words “Happy Birthday, Dex! We know how much you love it.” “You

Dex leaned over Sloane to defend his honor when he felt Sloane’s hand slip under his ass cheek and squeeze. Dex gave a start and blinked at his partner. With a wicked grin, Sloane leaned over to whisper at him. “I might be screwed, but tonight you’re going to be fucked.” Dex

Dex took Sloane’s beer from him, his eyes on Sloane as he put the bottle to his lips and took a couple of gulps, exposing his neck. The little bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing. “Damn it, Dex.” Sloane forced himself to look away. The last thing he needed was to walk around with a hard-on in an apartment filled with fellow agents. “Dance with me.” “I don’t dance.” Why are you even trying? You know he’s going to get his way. He always gets his way. Sloane figured he should at least make it look like he’d tried. He started by swiping his beer back from his sexy partner. “Ash

What the fuck is a Fancy Feast?” Sloane cleared his throat, feeling somewhat embarrassed. “It’s a threesome. Two Felid Therians and a submissive Human in the middle.” “Man,

Do you know why I don’t dance?” Sloane said breathlessly, his hands finding the hem of Dex’s shirt and pushing it up his body. “Why? You’re good at it.” “I don’t dance because I like to watch you,” Sloane admitted, loving the whimper that escaped Dex as he cupped Sloane through his jeans, his hand kneading and massaging Sloane’s hard dick. “Also, if I dance with you, I’m going to want to touch you. And then touching leads to us having sex in Ash’s bathroom.” “It’s

I’m going to fuck you fast and hard.” Sloane pressed the head of his cock between Dex’s ass cheeks. “You’re going to feel me inside you for hours. Just how you like it.” A low whimper escaped Dex, and Sloane pushed himself in, slowly at first. His teeth gritted as the tight heat enveloped him. Dex nodded and Sloane plunged the rest of the way in, grateful for the towel that muffled Dex’s surprised cry. He arched his back, his fingers gripping the edge of the sink. Grabbing Dex’s hips, Sloane pulled out, and drove himself back in. The sound of Dex’s muffled groans, his heavy breathing, his flushed face had Sloane desperate for more. He pounded into Dex hard and fast, as he’d promised. “Fuck.

Austen’s got a crush on Sloane.” Dex

Dex cackled and sat back. His expression softened. “I can’t say I blame him. I would have been pretty starstruck too. Big sexy badass.” Sloane

It had broken Dex’s heart to watch his little brother curl up on his side, his head on the armrest and a throw pillow hugged tight to his chest. It was obvious then that Cael didn’t just have a thing for Ash. He was in love with him. Must have been for some time. Dex

Why would he do that, Dex?” Whatever Dex’s feelings on Ash, they didn’t matter now. What mattered was being there for Cael. “He cares about you.” “The things he said.” Cael took a sip of his hot chocolate. He sucked in a few marshmallows—which made Dex smile—before putting the cup down on the small coffee table beside the couch. “I thought maybe….” “He was protecting you. I realize that now. I should have known then. Sloane told me Ash asked him to keep us away from him.

When Sloane saw Dex, he smiled the most beautiful smile Dex had ever seen, and Dex’s heart did a happy dance. “How

I couldn’t let them know the truth about you.” “And what’s that?” Cael asked softly. “That you mean more to me than anything. I couldn’t let them use you against me.” Cael sucked in a sharp breath. “What you said—” “Was all bullshit to keep you away.” Cael nodded. “Good to know. But that’s not what I was referring to. I meant I can’t believe you took a bullet for me.” Ash’s next words took Dex aback. “I’d die for you.” “I

Please don’t.” Ash raised a hand to Cael’s cheek and wiped a tear away. “I hate to see you like this.” “You almost got yourself killed. Why? Because I’m your teammate? Your friend? Because I’m the little brother you never had? What exactly am I to you, Ash? Every time I get my hopes up that you might…. You pull away or do something to make me think I’m wrong.” “You’re not wrong.” Cael took hold of Ash’s hand. “Then why can’t we—” “No.” Ash pulled his hand away, and Dex saw his brother’s heart split in two. Dex would have been royally pissed off at Ash for breaking his brother’s heart like this if it weren’t for the fact the guy looked equally devastated. What Dex couldn’t understand was why? Ash obviously felt something more for Cael than friendship. Dex could see how much he wanted to be with Cael. So why wasn’t he? “I’m sorry, Cael. I can’t.” “Because you’re not gay? Bi? Whatever you want to call the fact you feel something for me? For fuck’s sake, Ash. You’re lying in a hospital bed after surgery for taking a bullet for me. How can that be harder than telling me the truth? I love you.” Ash

Ash closed his eyes. “Why did you say that?” “Because it’s true. I’ve been in love with you for a while. I kept hoping you would realize it. I just don’t understand. Can’t you at least tell me why?” Cael waited, the room uncomfortably silent. Ash looked up at Cael, the pain evident in his eyes. “Cael, I don’t want to lose you. But I’ve got a lot of shit to work out. You deserve to be happy, and right now, I just don’t think I’d make you happy.” Cael

If that’s what you want. Fine. Thank you for saving my life. I don’t take such an act lightly.” “Cael….” Ash pleaded. “It’s fine, Ash. Just get better. Our team needs you.” There

He hates me.” “He doesn’t hate you. He’s protecting himself. When something really bad happens, he shuts down.” Dex had seen it happen plenty of times. He didn’t envy Ash’s position. Cael was sweet and kind, but when he was truly fucked off, his claws came out. And no one wanted to be at the end of a cheetah Therian’s temper. “I never meant for him to end up hurt. I just… I couldn’t help it. Wherever he was, I needed to be there too. I was weak.” Dex felt for Ash. He didn’t know the reasons behind his gruff teammate turning Cael away, but he hoped it was worth the personal hell he’d just unleashed. “Ash,

So what am I in for with your brother?” Dex cringed. “I’m not going to lie to you. He will fucking shred you like string cheese if he gets the opportunity. The only thing worse than him miserable is him fucked off and hurt when he doesn’t know why. He’ll hurt you, Ash. He might not mean to deep down, but he’s in serious pain, and the only way he knows how to deal with it is to lash out at whoever caused it.” Dex expected Ash to growl about it or get annoyed. Instead he closed his eyes. “Whatever he does, I deserve it.” Damn.

Damn. He never thought he’d feel worse for Ash than his brother. As much as he hated that Ash had broken his brother’s heart, as Dex had feared he would, whatever was going on with Ash had to be just as difficult. Why else would he push away someone he clearly wanted to be with so badly? Dex didn’t know what else he could do other than say, “I’m sorry.” Ash

Look at you,” Ash said, a deep frown on his face. “All smiley and glowing like some teen who’s just popped his cherry.” “Glad

What surprised Sloane the most was the sheer pain in his friend’s eyes. He thought back to Bar Dekatria and Ash’s rambles about Cael after he’d had one too many. He recalled Ash’s behavior toward Cael over the years. The way his friend had taken a bullet for the young Therian. “You’re in love with him?” Ash

surfaces gleamed. The bed had no dust sheet on it but