Needing someone: fun, good-looking, flexible.

Applicants?

Yes. Passion's back with a vengeance.

Some bastards aren't born - they're made. They're made by circumstances (beyond control) and experiences (losing control). They're shaped by the people in their lives and the people missing from them - what happens then when more are missing than present?

Pothos shrugs, followed by a Don't careBastards become who they are because they have to, ( Read more... )

It was funny how some things worked out (funny how some things didn't). In truth, it wasn't really amusing at all, so this urge to laugh, loudly, raucously, ceaselessly into the quiet drowsiness that settled over his suite in Aphrodite's temple was quite out of place. To laugh and laugh and laugh because it was funny how some things worked out ( ( Read more... )

Pothos didn't know how long it had been since his last conversation with Aphrodite - since the moment he knew he lost Himeros - sweet, sweet Desire - for good and to the clutches of some ragabond Underworlder. He didn't know and he didn't particularly care. All he wanted to do was sulk (albeit elegegantly, mind you). Get drunk (although, ( Read more... )

How they went from talking about Himeros and his Underworlder to this was beyond him.

“Slut.”

He raised an eyebrow, going for offended but ending up with amused. Drat it. Why couldn’t he pretend to be insulted? He was. He honestly was. He was no slut ( Read more... )

The music in the club was loud, ear-shattering so, spilling out onto the wintry night where people cued in a line that went around two city blocks. The pulsing beat crawled inside your veins and slithered up your spine, filling your head better than the second-grade alcohol did. The dance floor was a writhing mass of sensuous, twisting bodies ( Read more... )