“Staring down at his button fly, he tried to find another explanation. Maybe he'd thrown a clot? A cock clot... or maybe... shit... There was no way he could be attracted to another female.”

“As soon as he was free from the library, he raced away from the Sanctuary, returning his faithless body to his bedroom at the mansion. He was still erect when he got there. Duh. Staring down at his button fly, he tried to find another explanation. Maybe he’d thrown a clot? A cock clot … or maybe … shit… There was no way he could be attracted to another female.”

“..every once in a while, maybe twice a year, I dream of blood. It tastes like copper pennies on your tongue. It’s hot, hotter than you expect, and very wet at first, but it clots even as it fills your mouth. It sticks in your throat but you swallow it down, you can feel it stringy and dark in the back of your throat but you force it down so you can have some more, another mouthful, and another. I know it so well now. The dryness of it, the clots in your teeth. The need.”

“Anyway, two men hugging each other is against nature. A ram should not hug another ram, and a he-goat should not hug another he-goat! Let a he-dog embrace a she-dog, and let a female cattle hug a bull, but a stallion should not embrace another stallion, and a cock should not reach for another cock!”

“But by God, he was going to stop running from his cowardice. He had to own his shit - even if it made him hate himself to the core. Because maybe if he did, he'd stop trying to distract himself with sex and drinking, and figure out what he did want.Apart from Blay, that was.”

“Wesley Rush was the most disgusting womanizing playboy to ever darken the doorstep of Hamilton High… but he was kind of hot. Maybe if you could put him on mute… and cut off his hands… maybe—just maybe—he’d be tolerable then. Otherwise, he was a real piece of shit. Horn dog shit.”