“Blay didn’t shake the hand that was offered. He reached over, took a hold of the fighter’s face, and drew Qhuinn in for a kiss. It was supposed to be only a split-seconder— like their lips were the ones doing the handshake thing. When he went to pull back, though, Qhuinn captured him, and held him in place. Their mouths met again… and again… and once more, their heads tilting to the sides, the contact lingering. “You’re welcome,” Blay said roughly. Then he smiled a little. “Can’t say it was all a pleasure, though.”

“In the silence that followed, Blay knew he had something he was supposed to say. Yeah...it was right on his tongue. It was... Shit. With Qhuinn looking at him like that, he couldn't remember his own name. Blaysox? Blacklock? Blabberfox? Who the fuck knew...”

“Blay:Better than the full bifta. Especially because Qhuinn was beautiful to watch when he had sex. Just….beautitful.Back when Blay had tried to do the hetero thing, the two had tag-teamed a number of human females – not that he could have recalled any of the women’s faces, bodies, or names. It had always been about Qhuinn for him. Always.”

“Call me," she whispered to him with a confidence that would fade as the days passed. Qhuinn smiled a little. "Take care."At the sound of the two words, Blay relaxed, his big shoulders easing up. In Qhuinn-landia, "Take care" was synonymous with "I'm never going to see, call or fuck you again.”

“You're a freak. But I really can't accept these-'Were you raised in a barn? Don't be ruuuuuude, my boy. They're a gift.'Blay shook his head. 'Take them, John. You're just going to lose this argument, and it will save us from the theatrics.'Theatrics?' Qhuinn leaped up and assumed a Roman oratory pose. 'Whither thou knowest thy ass from thy elbow, young scribe?'Blay blushed. 'Come on-'Qhuinn threw himself at Blay, grasping onto the guy's shoulders and hanging his full weight off him. 'Hold me. Your insult has left me breathless. I'm agasp.'Blay grunted and scrambled to keep Qhuinn up off the floor. 'That's agape.'Agasp sounds better.'Blay was trying not to smile, trying not to be delighted, but his eyes were sparkling like sapphires and his cheeks were getting red. With a silent laugh, John sat on one of the locker room benches, shook out his pair of white socks, and pulled them on under his new old jeans. 'You sure, Qhuinn? 'Cause I have a feeling they're going to fit and you might change your mind. Qhuinn abruptly lifted himself off Blay and straightened his clothes with a sharp tug. 'And now you offend my honor.' Facing off at John, he flipped into a fencing stance. Touché.'Blay laughed. 'That's en garde, you damn fool.'Qhuinn shot a look over his shoulder. 'ça va, Brutus?'Et tu?'That would be tutu, I believe, and you can keep the cross-dressing to yourself, ya perv.'Qhuinn flashed a brilliant smile, all twelve kinds of proud for being such an ass. 'Now, put the fuckers on, John, and let's be done with this. Before we have to put Blay in an iron lung.'Try sanitarium.'No, thanks, I had a big lunch.”

“Scrambling through the drifts, Blay rushed over and landed on his knees. Qhuinn was sprawled on the ground, his long, heavy legs stretched out, his upper body in John’s lap.The male just stared at him with those mismatched eyes, unmoving, unspeaking.“Is he paralyzed?” Blay demanded, looking over at John.“Not that I’m aware of,” Qhuinn replied dryly.I think he’s got a concussion, John signed.“I do not—”He went flying off the hood of his car and hit this tree—“I mostly missed the tree—”And I’ve had to hold him down ever since.“Which is pissing me off—”