“Griff's pretty neat on his own. Scottish hedge!”

“Griff groaned and covered Dante's loose mouth with his own, driving his tongue in to steal the stars from his eyes, the fire from his mind.”

“You want it, boy?" He pulled his prick out of his jeans."God, yes. That's why I'm here." "Good." He left his jeans open, left his prick hard and pushing out. "Come on. Shower.""Turn around." He wanted to see it. Griff went a deep red, but the man turned to show the weird, stylized whip branded into one ass cheek. Groaning, Brian reached out and touched it, traced it with his fingers. He'd done that. He'd marked his boy. "You still clean?" Brian kept rubbing his prick back and forth across Griff's hole. "I am. I couldn't... I couldn't get it up with anyone else.""Good." He grabbed the shampoo and poured it over his fingers. "Was not. You fucked me up""We fucked each other up." He was not in this alone. He couldn't wait to be inside Griff again. His wild, desperate baby boy. His fingers traced the brand on Griff's ass. His. All fucking his. Marked permanently. And Griff had let him do it. The man knew it was true.”

“Europe is so well gardened that it resembles a work of art, a scientific theory, a neat metaphysical system. Man has re-created Europe in his own image.”

“I'M SCOTTISH!”

“Scottish Play Doe was born at 4:13 a.m. on September 6th. The ink was barely dry on his father's new tattoo.”