“See what love does? It makes you weak. Kills you."
Warm breath feathered over her scalp as Remy pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "It also gives people something to live for," he whispered.”
“What got up your ass?"-Haley
"Your finger, once or twice." -Remy”
“you think I"m that desperate?"
"The raging hard-on jabbing at me says yes."
~Creed/Annika”
“You play dirty, Haley." he breathed. "But this is my show."
"I can take care of myself"
"Not like I can."
"Do you want me to stop?"
"No."
"Then say it. Say it's my show."
~Remy/Haley”
“I don't know what you want, Haley. Just because you got me off doesn't mean I have to engage in post-fuck chat. So back off.”
“Coming sounds like a good idea, Haley," he murmured in her ear.
"Are you going to come for me, with me, again and again, until you can't stand it anymore, until you can't see straight?"
"Is that what you want?" she asked.
"Not want. Need." He gripped her hips and urged her down to her knees.
"Need to fuck you, right here. Need to be inside you now."
~Remy/Haley”
“Me", he murmured, his voice vibrating through her like some sort of secret trigger, because suddenly, she was coming, and he was saying, "Only me, bebe, only me."
~Remy/Haley”
“He licked his lips, so full and kissable, and his eyes darkened dangerously.
"But you do make a lot of noise in the shower. You're a screamer."
~Creed”
“I told you the storm's not over."
~Remy”
“Storms make you--"
"Want to fuck."
"they make me want to fuck until I pass out. Is that what you wanted to know?"
"Yes," she whispered...
~Remy/Haley”
“This is what you wanted, bebe."
He took her bottom lip between his teeth and let his hot tongue rasp slowly over it before releasing her.
"You wanted me to make love to your mouth. Imagine me doing this between your legs."
~Remy”
“He sank to his knees.
"I don't know how to handle this. I don't know what you want from me. Quoi tu veux," he murmured, over and over, until the whirring noise slowed and his fingers curled deep into the mud.
~Remy”
“It wasn't right. Evil should look evil. It should reek like rotten flesh, not smell like pine cleaner and fabric softener”
“Ouça-me este conselho: em política, não se perdoa nem se esquece nada.”
“Jīvaka, I say that there are three instances in which meat should not be eaten: when it is seen, heard, or suspected [that the living being has been slaughtered for oneself]. I say that meat should not be eaten in these three instances. I say that there are three instances in which meat may be eaten: when it is not seen, not heard, and not suspected [that the living being has been slaughtered for oneself]. I say that meat may be eaten in these three instances.”
“AS A HUNTER I am looked down upon in Western society. I am portrayed as a brute. I am denigrated and spat upon, and thought of as a slow-witted anachronism, the dregs of a discredited culture. This happened quickly when one looks at human history. The skills I possess—the ability to track, hunt, kill, and dress out my prey so it can be served at a table to feed others—were prized for tens of thousands of years. Hunters fed those in the tribe and family who could not hunt well or did not hunt because they weren’t physically able to. The success of the hunter produced not only healthy food and clothing, tools, medicine, and amenities, but a direct hot-blooded connection with God and the natural world. The hunter was the provider, and exalted as such.”
“Don't you get it yet,Harriet?" Nick says in total exasperation. "i like that you know about the stars in the rain and the shapes of the clouds and the heartbeat rate of the hummingbird. I like that you know that giraffes don't have vocal cords and the sharks can't stop moving. I like the way you stick your little nose in the air.....”
“The architecture of the Minotaur’s heart is ancient. Rough hewn and many chambered, his heart is a plodding laborious thing, built for churning through the millennia. But the blood it pumps—the blood it has pumped for five thousand years, the blood it will pump for the rest of his life—is nearly human blood. It carries with it, through his monster’s veins, the weighty, necessary, terrible stuff of human existence: fear, wonder, hope, wickedness, love. But in the Minotaur’s world it is far easier to kill and devour seven virgins year after year, their rattling bones rising at his feet like a sea of cracked ice, than to accept tenderness and return it.”
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