“You want me to beg?” he asked in a breathless, challenging voice.
It was David’s voice more than anything that always got to George. It had this husky quality that made everything he said sound like a whispered, amused secret. And because George never could back down from a dare, he responded to the challenge in David’s infuriating voice by pushing his hips forward and felt David start to harden. He felt it without surprise. This moment had been coming for a while. They both knew it, both recognized it for what it was, now that it was here.
“War Boys don’t beg for mercy,” David said in a whisper, his eyes full of heat and challenge.
He felt it in the drift, how not-sorry Jake is for leaving all this behind. But he fumbles with Jake’s belt anyway, works it open with his hands, because yes Nate’s uptight and has no sense of humor and he’ll never forgive Jake for leaving, but he’s stupid-in-love with him all the same.
He struggles a little against the ropes. Lan Zhan watches silently.
Are his eyes darker than before? Wei Ying knows the magic of angels, knows Lan Zhan could silence him if he wanted to, but he lets Wei Ying talk, so he talks. He boasts and seduces, coaxing and playing with Lan Zhan like he’s done it a thousand times. These are the skills he knows best; they will free him.
At a natural pause in Wei Ying’s speech, Lan Zhan finally interrupts.
“You are new,” he states, which, rude! Wei Ying has been told many times that he’s the most powerful succubus anyone’s seen in centuries. He may be new, but Lan Zhan doesn’t need to—to guess like that. What does he know about succubi?!
Ray should have been allowed to come and find Gerard! He was the lead guitar player of their band and the set list was as much up to him as it was to anyone else, and if he wanted to discuss it with his lead singer then he should have been allowed to do that whenever he wanted. He should not have had to issue a written warning first, or text or call, or even knock, which he was desperately wishing he had done, because there was Gerard on the couch, facing away from Ray, not wearing a shirt and getting his dick sucked.
Lan Wangji never believed the stories of the Lan family curse.
He kept his face impassive when, as a young boy, Lan Qiren told him, “The rumors are true. If a Lan reaches thirty years of age with his virginity intact, he will be able to hear the thoughts of whomever he touches.”
There is no time. No time to process, no time to grieve. Steve pushes the horror, the guilt, down into the pit of his stomach, a lead weight that would crush him if he allowed it.
The noise from the array distorts, changing in frequency as the light flares up, painfully bright. Steve turns away, shielding his eyes, and sees the Borg on the walkway before him move stiffly, its head still bowed.
It slowly rises, lifting its head. The red laser sighted by its right eye strobes across Steve’s face as it turns towards him.
It was human, once. It’s eyes a shade of blue that Steve hasn’t seen in half a lifetime.
The police had his new client in an interrogation room, handcuffed to a chair. The guy looked up as Sam came in: white, late twenties, clear-eyed, which made Sam’s eyebrows go up; not the typical murder suspect the Baltimore police usually pulled in. “Dean Winchester?” Sam said. “I’m Sam Moore. I’m your lawyer.”