Wine and Gun

So anyway, he has never had such an experience. Because Albarino Bacchus is actually different, he's not the same as those soft skin and lips, and he's very different from those tender sex.

Sex with Albarino cannot be described with the word "tender", that's too far off. Most of the time, it was a word associated with provocation, anger and burning, and the feeling he brought to Herstal was infinitely close to murder and destruction; it made him feel the lava running through the bone marrow, a terrible desire .

On the one hand, he really wanted to kill each other and dismember each other, and he almost wanted to strangle Albarino by the neck at the high moment. It was all his last sense of reason to stop him, because Albarino was 80% during this time. And to meet Hardy, he didn't need more bruises on his neck.

On the other hand, he really wants to tear off the mask that fits perfectly. He doesn't know if he can see the other person's collapse or cry. It seemed to be an extremely long war, and he held the scepter and crown, fingers clasped over the warm flesh of the living Grail. When he was in the other's body, he could hear Albarino's hoarse gasps, intermittently coming out from between his lips.

In the end, Herstal fell on top of him, feeling his skin tremble with intense passion, Albarino moved under him and muttered something. Even when he wasn't looking, Herstal could still imagine the smile.

They lay in a mush, not too cold, just too tired. It was a long time before he rolled over on Albarino and slid into the poor last spot on the sofa, one leg still on Albarino.

Herstal moved to look at each other at this moment.

The other's hair was sweaty, curled against his forehead, and looked darker than it should have been. His skin was a bruise that had not yet receded, bound like a terrible yoke around his neck, and was covered with freshly spotted red marks that ran along the edges of those wounds. .

The problem is that being naked doesn't make him look vulnerable. It was the moment when he revealed his body so casually that others could see something truly hard and solid under his clever disguise. Herstal could recall the moment he was in Elliot Evans' basement, when Albarino walked in through the door, his green eyes strangely cheerful and shining, like an emotionless one. Beautiful stone.

Even in moments like these - when the two of them seemed to be huddled together on the same sofa - Herstal was clearly aware that the creature lying beside him was inhuman. Either Albarino never saw other people as the same kind, or Albarino never saw himself as human, whichever possibility is right, it's very, very dangerous.

Of course Herstal should have known, he should have known from the start.

And now Albarino glanced at him, his eyes were almost content, Albarino asked: "What are you thinking?"

Herstal took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the air was full of sexual aftertastes, and he couldn't find a particular reason to lie.

"I'm very skeptical now," he said slowly—and they all understood that when Herstal said "very skeptical," he was basically saying, "I'm pretty sure." "If I don't kill you now, I will fall in love with you one day."

They were silent for a brief two seconds, and Albarino's arm moved, wrapping around his waist as if unsuspecting, his warm fingertips circling the sweaty skin.

Then Albarino smiled.

"Then this is a very dangerous epiphany." Albarino said softly, the aftertaste of his voice was still long and hoarse, reminiscent of dark things, and being slowly pulled from under the body by the sea làng Sand walking, "So, are you going to kill me? Because you're never sure if I'm looking for the same thing as you -- or if I can give back what you want."

Herstal looked at him sideways: the undulating arc of his Adam's apple, a thin, white scar on the skin of his neck almost submerged in dark purple bruises. It was the scar Hestal had left on Bob Langdon's throat with the knife the night he killed it, and the scar was so thin, so light, that the scar would soon darken to the color of the skin, and then Everyone can see again that it existed.

And that night, Albarino said, "I want too much... If I tell you my big, complicated thoughts, you might get bored."

- Here's the problem: Albarino never decided where Herstal Armalette should be, until now; approaching the Westland pianist was only on his whim, he was approaching each other I didn't even decide whether to kill the other party, cooperate with the other party, or drive the other party crazy. He himself doesn't even mind admitting that "the desire to destroy you is as thriving as the desire to possess you".

The enthusiasm of the Sunday gardeners was so sudden, so ardent, that it set everything on fire, but none of them knew when the fire would go out, or what would happen to them when it went out.

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