Love
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For where all love is, the speaking is unnecessary
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For where all love is, the speaking is unnecessary
I stood still, vision blurring, and in that moment, I heard my heart break. It was a small, clean sound, like the snapping of a flower's stem.
Oh, aye, Sassenach. I am your master . . . and you're mine. Seems I canna possess your soul without losing my own.
Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone,I give ye my Body, that we Two might be One.I give ye my Spirit, 'til our Life shall be Done.
It wasn't a thing I had consciously missed, but having it now reminded me of the joy of it; that drowsy intimacy in which a man's body is accessible to you as your own, the strange shapes and textures of it like a sudden extension of your own limbs.
Gentle he would be, denied he would not.