“I want you to watch. And tomorrow when you're sore, I want you to remember who did it to you.”

“I want you sore, baby,” he murmurs, and he continues his sweet, leisurely torment, backward, forward. “Every time you move tomorrow, I want you to be reminded that I’ve been here. Only me. You are mine.”

“If you're in the room, I want to be next to you. If you're gone, I think about you. You're who I want to talk to. In a fight, I want you at my back. When we're together the sun is shining. When we're apart, everything is in shades of gray.”

“The thing is, Maximum, I love you. I can't help but be focused on you when we're together. If you're in the room, I want to be next to you. If you're gone, I think about you. You're who I want to talk to. In a fight, I want you at my back. When we're together, the sun is shining. When we're apart, everything is in shades of gray.”

“I want to put my hand out and touch you. I want to do for you and care for you. I want to be there when you're sick and when you're lonesome.”

“Don't you remember telling me that you're the brain and I'm the brawn? Naturally I expect you to do all the talking. And naturally I shall knockheads and toss people out of windows as required. Or did I misunderstand? Did you want me to think, too?”