“He took a breath, then proclaimed, 'Lady Shaselle of Hytanica, I am in love with you.' I burst into laughter, pulling my legs up to ease my aching stomach muscles. He rolled onto his side to look at me, propping his head up with his hand. 'I'm serious,' he insisted, grinning foolishly at me. 'You're drunk.' 'True, but even drunks can be in love.”

“Jamie," I said, "how, exactly, do you decide whether you're drunk?"Aroused by my voice, he swayed alarmingly to one side, but caught himself on the edge of the mantelpiece. His eyes drifted around the room, then fixed on my face. For an instant, they blazed clear and pellucid with intelligence."och, easy, Sassenach, If ye can stand up, you're not drunk." He let go of the mantelpiece, took a step toward me, and crumpled slowly onto the hearth, eyes blank, and a wide, sweet smile on his dreaming face.”

“Fuck," he said, sliding his hands down to my thighs. "You're making this very hard to be the good guy you said I was last night.""I'm not drunk."He pressed his forehead to mine, chuckling softly. "Yeah, I can see that and while the idea of taking you right now, against the wall, is enough to make me lose control, I want you to know that I'm serious. You're not a hook up. You're not a friend with benefits. You're more than that to me."I closed my eyes, breathing heavily. "Well, that was...really sort of perfect.”

“He stared up at me, and even as the house fell apart around us, even as drops of fire rained down from the sky, his hand raised and brushed a lock of hair out of my face, and I felt his stomach rise as he breathed in deeply.“You,” he whispered. “You’re a boy?” His hands cupped my face, and a tear streaked down my cheek onto his fingers. “I dreamt of you but… but I never thought…”

“He strips his shirt over his head and I catch my breath, watching those long hard muscles ripple. I know how his shoulders look, bunched, when he's on top of me, how his face gets tight with lust, as he eases inside me. "Who am I?""Jericho""Who are you?" He kicks off his boots, steps out of his pants. He's commando tonight.My breath whooshes out of me in a run-on word: "Whogivesafuck?”

“He flipped himself onto his side and kissed me. "You're so hot," I said, my hand still on his leg. "I'm starting to think you have an amputee fetish," he answered, still kissing me. I laughed."I have an Augustus Waters fetish," I explained.”