Wine and Gun

After seeing what this line of writing was, Herstal raised his head and gave Albarino a deep look - while the latter was still sitting there smiling, holding the eggnog glass loosely in his hand. , half of his body was immersed in the brilliance of the fire of the hearth that flickered in and out of the room. Herstal realized how similar Albarino's sitting position was to the time he broke into the other party's house in the suburbs - he frowned slightly and asked, "What do you want me to do? Is it what I think it is?"

"Is there anything wrong?" Albarino replied with a smile.

"Yes." Herstal thought for a moment, then pointed out, "When the average person wants to put someone's name on their skin, they choose to get a tattoo on themselves, rather than get themselves third degree burns. "

"Ah, the person who said this carved thirteen knives on me." Albarino retorted easily. He put the eggnog glass on the table too, then stood up and walked over to Herstal.

Herstal sat safely in the chair and looked up at him: "That was the best choice at the time, if there were no such insulting words, what do you think Lavasa McCard would have done wrong? What about the profile of the situation? The pianist at the time had no other motive to attack you."

"Then even if you are right." Albarino smiled slightly, "but I think you enjoyed it at the time."

His hand suddenly pressed on Herstal's knee, and then he knelt down at Herstal's feet in this extremely frank posture. But now Herstal is wearing a nightgown and Albarino is wearing a baggy knitted sweater and jeans, so the whole scene doesn't look right.

His fingers pressed lightly on Herstal's lap, pretending not to see the other's breathing a little heavier. Albarino continued: "You know, I'm not a scarred physique, the previous letters are already very pale... so I guess you don't mind giving me a new one."

"So you made a brand," Herstal said, in a tone that clearly wanted to make Albarino realize that was a bad idea. "If you have a festering wound or a fever from the burn, I really don't want to. Explain to someone at the hospital how a serial killer's name got burned on your skin."

If Albarino were sane enough, he would say, "I used to be a doctor and I could handle a burn less than ten centimeters long and two centimeters wide," which is also true. But he's not that kind of person. So his choice was to put his elbow on Herstal's lap, lean over to kiss him, brush his lips against the corner of his mouth, and whisper, "In most cases, your sanity They're suppressing your desires—"

He paused for a moment, and the corner of his mouth hovered over the other's lips.

"And in certain circumstances, I do hate your sanity."

Herstal may have let out a soft sigh, but he reached out, wrapping his fingers around the ends of his hair, pressing Albarino to his lips.

The branded end of the soldering iron was pushed into the furnace, and the tiny piece of metal was gradually burned red and bright, finally showing a pure golden color. In addition, the indoor light source is very dim, only the wall lamps on the wall not far away and the small lights on the Christmas tree are flickering brightly.

The outside was full of snow, and on such a silent night, the whole house seemed to be enclosed in a silent snow crystal ball, and only the crackling sound of the burning fire remained indoors. Albarino still knelt lazily beside the chair, resting one hand on the back of the armchair, watching Herstal standing by the fireplace.

The other party is holding the handle of the soldering iron, sticking the other end into the fire to burn, and his eyes are quite focused on the beating flames.

The hidden meaning behind the whole thing is enough for Hollywood to make a movie with the theme of "Fifty Shades of Grey", but when the protagonist of the story is a murderer, the general audience will subconsciously ignore that they are not normal way of expressing emotions.

Actually the same holds true for Herstal: firstly Albarino is a real psychopath, secondly he has killed more than thirty people in the thirteen years so far, and finally, he Wants his legal husband to have the name "Herstar Amalet" branded on him.

——As long as they are listed one by one, people will feel that the last one is nothing at all.

And a rustling sound came from behind Herstal. It was the sound of Albarino taking off the sweater, which was soft enough but with an unflattering pattern. When Herstal held the handle of the soldering iron and turned around, he was half-kneeling beside the chair with his upper body naked, his bare feet, and his eyes were filled with a strange pleasure; The combination of semi-dark rooms, flickering Christmas trees and burning fireplaces creates an eerie and secretive atmosphere around them.

Herstal walked slowly towards him, looking down at him.

"A lot of people will regret that they gave everything stupidly at one stage," Herstal said after a moment, "and then they'll wash off the tattoo of the name of the person they once loved or the birthday, Throw away everything that reminds them of each other - just because we all know people are fragile and fickle, and nothing can be called 'eternal', let alone emotional."

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