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Jake's mouth found mine, his lips molding hot and soft to my own. His tongue tentatively tested the seal of my lips I parted them and he pushed inside. It was startlingly sweet and achingly familiar, like finding harbor.
Josh Lanyon
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Josh Lanyon
Mouths
Tested
Molding
Lips
Soft
Parted
Mines
Hot
Jake
Mine
Mouth
Seal
Sweet
Familiar
Harbor
Inside
Tongue
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More quotes by Josh Lanyon
The problem with a life spent reading is you know too much.
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I dug out the powder blue cashmere cardigan my mother Lisa gave me the Christmas before last, pulled on my oldest, softest Levi’s. Comfort clothes the next best thing to a hug from a warm, living body. Lately there had been a shortage of hugs in my life. Lately there had been a shortage of warm, living bodies.
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I love you, Jake whispered. Are you strong enough for this? I made myself comfortable. Said over my shoulder, Sure. Would you tell me if you weren't? I grinned. Maybe. I can't think of a nicer way to commit suicide. That's good. I can't think of a more pleasant way to commit murder.
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Adrien, people get killed all the time. Since when is it your job to find out what happened to them? I'm not usually suspected of murdering them. You have been as long as I've known you.
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Tiffs among the faggots were apparently the stuff of quiet merriment.
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I’m not going to let go of you. I’m going to hold you all night. So go ahead and feel whatever you feel. If you’re still craving cocaine, go ahead. You’re safe. You can crave it all you want, but I won’t let go, and if you still feel like you can’t trust yourself in the morning, and it’s what you want, I’ll drive you to rehab myself. Okay? ~ Max
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Cops before breakfast.Before coffee even. As if Mondays weren't bad enough.
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I know you've all heard the advice, Show, don't tell. The best writers don't tell you, and quite frankly they don't just show you -- they make you feel it, live it, taste it, touch it. Storytelling is about being in the moment with the characters.
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I thought I recognized you. Really? He remembered me looking like Swamp Thing? How flattering.
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All cynics are disappointed idealists. The more stars in the eyes, the harder the fall.
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Have I ever told you, you look like Monty Clift? he inquired in a deep, seductive voice. Before or after the accident?
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I thought of the words of the Renaissance philosopher Michel de Montaigne. If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I.
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And I thought maybe I didn't need to worry about my heart anymore because it had stopped beating a couple of seconds earlier, and I was still sitting there living and breathing-though admittedly I wasn't feeling much of anything.
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He scooped up Victoria practically before she hit the ground, well within the five-second rule. If she'd been a potato chip, he could have still eaten her. Not something I particularly wanted to contemplate.
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Focus on someone else’s problems for a change, I instructed myself. You need the practice. From now on you’ll have to live in a world you didn’t make up. Horrible thought.
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Like true philosophers I've come to believe that religion is an illusion of childhood, outgrown after proper education.
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To find them all in one package...well, perhaps better not to dwell on his package in my fragile state.
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Shrugging out of the damaged shirt, Jake said roughly, “I still dream about you.” “I have nightmares about you.” I dragged my T-shirt over my head, threw it aside.
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I liked you the first time I saw you. You were sitting on the floor surrounded by books, and you looked up when I opened the door and smiled right at me. It felt like you had been waiting for me, like you were welcoming me home.
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