Trevor cupped his hands around it, felt Zach's heartbeat throbbing between his palms. The skin of the shaft was textured, slightly rippled beneath the surface. The head was as smooth as satin, as rose petals. Trevor rubbed his thumb across it, squeezed gently, heard Zack suck air in through his teeth and moan as he let it out. He could see blood suffusing the tissue just beneath the translucent skin, a deep dusky rose delicately purpled at the edges, crowned with a single dewy pearl of come. It was as intimate, as raw as holding someone's heart in his hands. Poppy Z. Brite
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  1. Maybe they did what they had to do to live, and tried to get a little love and have a little fun before the darkness took them.
  2. But if I die without trying again, I'm a coward. I don't mind having regrets about stuff I've done. It's the regrets about stuff I haven't done that bother me.
  3. Ah, relationships. If he was lucky, Luke thought, he would never have another one.
  4. And what was I if not death's ghostwriter?
  5. Some nights are made for torture, or reflection, or the savoring of loneliness.
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