Forelle

血是热烈的红,爱是纯洁的白。

 

Sometimes, when he would be fortunate enough, he would bury his face into the Outsider’s neck and breathe in the anti-scent, ozone and the smell of sea water stuck to the smooth column of flesh. There was no pulse, of course, but he’d quick gotten used to that, instead becoming attuned to the minute shudders that would roil beneath his lips as he would mouth at the hollow.

好喜欢这段描写!!

 
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