Could You Not Tease Me?

"DArKnIght?" The bartender smiled. "Too light, isn't it?"

"Not to me, but to him. I drove today."

Hunt shook his hand quickly: "I don't drink, you know ..."

It reminded him of his father's last loss of self for wine.

"Hunter, you are different from him," Winston began.

"what?"

"You will not be destroyed by failure, you will not lose yourself. It is always your brain that controls you, not alcohol."

Hunt looked at the ice-blue liquid that was delivered to him, just like the color of Winston's eyes, with some kind of unattractive appeal.

"The so-called self-control does not mean that you never touch something, but that you are yourself even if you are caught in it. Moreover, I will always look at you."

Hunt was a little surprised. He is well aware that as a top racer, Winston must have a strong self-control. He must manage his body and control the car with the best state and responsiveness. So Winston should be more inclined to advise him not to drink than to try to drink.

He looked at the liquid in front of him. In fact, Hunter had never told anyone that he was afraid of alcohol in the bottom of his heart, but he had to look like other young people and look forward to drinking and playing as an adult.

This thing took away his father, his family. But in fact Winston was right, it wasn't alcohol that really took it all, but his father's unwillingness to face failure.

Hunter lifted his glass and took a sip.

It does not have a mouthful taste, but the cool feeling permeates into each cell along the taste buds, and the body gradually becomes relaxed.

"I think it's soft and not DArK at all!" Hunt felt that he was falling in love with the taste.

"It's like DArKnIght, immersing you in the quiet and peaceful comfort, you can't wake up until you are swallowed up late at night."

Winston's voice was light but soft, like a feather after feather that ran through Hunter's heart tirelessly.

Hunt found that he liked to listen to Winston. I really like it.

"Can I have another drink?" Hunt looked at the bartender.

The bartender looked at Winston with a smile.

"Give him a glass of LIponFInger." Winston began.

The bartender's hands and arms shook again, and before long, a pale pink wine was pushed in front of Hunter.

"Hey, it's pink? Are you sure this isn't for the lady?" Hunt looked funnyly at Winston.

"Try it." Winston rolled his face.

Well, you highly recommend it, I will give it a try.

Don't be a little sweet wine to coax a girl.

Hunt took a sip, opened his eyes wide, and then covered his mouth: "Oh-"

"How?" Winston leaned sideways, leaning on his chin, and staring at him half-closed.

Hunt froze. It was the first time he saw Winston show such a relaxed expression, his lazy eyebrows were like fingers, pressing gently on his nerves. When he tried to grab them, they disappeared quietly long ago.

"The lips are a bit numb. The face of the tongue is rolled ..."

"So, its name is LIponFInger." Winston said.

Hunter turned his face, looked at the glass of pink liquid carefully, and then looked up to show the admiration of the bartender.

After this cup, Hunter looked curiously at Winston, seemingly wondering what he would give himself for the next cup.

"CrAZYDeSIre." Winston whispered softly.

The bartender looked slightly surprised: "Are you sure?"

"Ok."

Hunter looked curiously at the bartender: "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." The bartender gestured with his thumb and forefinger, "crAZYDeSIre is a little stronger than the two glasses before."

"A little bit?" The name of the wine sounded strong.

Usually a little bit of a bartender can mean another step.

"It's just a little bit."

The bartender's movements were crisp and handsome. Hunter looked up, like magic. The bottom of the glass was blood red, and the upper layer was filled with golden liquid.

"I won't shout out?"

The bartender shook his head with a smile: "You will love this taste."

Hunt looked up, and he licked his lips.

"Hey, it's best to drink it in one bite," the bartender reminded.

"A bite?" Hunt glanced at Winston's direction.

The other nodded.

"I will watch you."

You will watch me.

Won't let me sink into a world that doesn't belong to me.

Hunt lowered his head and smiled.

"Actually we haven't seen a few faces, and we can count them with our fingers."

"So?"

"But it's weird ... you give me somehow a sense of security."

Even the father who sent me to the kart never convinced me so.

"Then promise me anything that you think is dangerous but must be done with me."

"Haha." Hunter smiled and drank up his glass.

A few seconds later, the force like an explosion stirred between the lips and teeth, hovering arrogantly in his body, rushing into the depths of the brain, and after a dizziness, every cell relaxed.

"Oh-" Hunt sighed in surprise.

"How do you feel?" The bartender asked with a smile.

"It feels great!" Hunter's appetite for this bar burst out. "What else is interesting?"

"You devil, please." The bartender laughed.

"Hey, I don't like people calling me a ghost."

"You must be younger than me, and being called a demon shows that you are still young. When you reach my age, someone calls you a devil, and you will think the world is beautiful."

"Is there anything else interesting then?" Hunt was in high spirits at the moment.

The bartender looked at Winston. "What's another cup for him?"

"YoUrULeme."

I don't know why, Winston's voice seemed to flow in his mind, but he couldn't fall out.

"YoUrULeme?" The bartender's face was "really okay?"

"Ok."

"it is good."

So Hunter once again enjoyed the bartender's almost artistic bartending action. There was a serious audience like Hunt, and the bartender's face was also smiling.

This is the last glass of wine. It is colorful and slowly settles into a transparent dark red.

"Do you need a bite?"

"No, take your time." The bartender blinked and smiled.

His smile made Hunter's ears inexplicably red.

Winston raised his chin to the bartender, and the other leaned over.

"Did Gina come to work today?"

"Here, it should be in the background. May I call her for you?"

"Um." Winston nodded.

Hunter took a sip, and the glass of wine volatile in his mouth, showing a rich texture, then settled down, dragging his ability to think.

At this time, a short-haired woman in a vest and suit trousers approached Winston.

She lowered herself beside Winston, her ears resting on Winston's lips.

This frowned Hunt.

Winston was indifferent to most of the people around him, and Hunter had never seen anyone get so close to him except the necessary staff.

Winston turned his face to the side, and Gina almost completely blocked him, which made Hunter start to wonder what the expression on Winston's face was at this moment.

Not sure what he was saying, Gina nodded, looking in the direction of Hunter, with a smile on her lips.

The slow blues in the bar didn't know when it changed, as if the woman was breathing breathlessly.

Gina came to Hunter, and slowly swayed her waist with the music.

Gina, who was originally neutral because of the waiter's uniform, exudes some kind of temptation beyond gender.

The other guests in the bar also smiled vaguely, left their place and looked over.

Gina's fingers hooked her bow tie, snarled Hunter's seat, and circled, but she did not touch Hunter. Her bowtie came loose, several times, and she seemed to be sitting on Hunter's body, but deflected to the other side.

Hunt could only resist the urge to grab her into his arms.

There were other eyes looking at themselves, and they were waiting for the moment when he was restrained by Gina.

Gina's long legs crossed his armrest, her exquisite lines were like a snake's letter, itching his heart, and blood rushing down.

Just as Gina turned around, Hunter saw Winston on the opposite side.

He still held his chin with one hand, but his gaze was cold.

Cold enough to wake him up instantly, any impulse was left behind.

As the music slowed from tormenting to urgency, Gina's movements became more and more bold.

But Hunt found himself more attracted to Winston's eyes.

It was like being beaten by alcohol. There was a hint of tease deep in Winston's eyebrows in his eyes, and it became more and more obvious that Hunter couldn't even suppress the imagination of the man who released the **** charm around himself with music. It's not Gina, but Winston.

Suddenly, Hunter imagined Winston tearing off the collar of the pure white sweater, and released his hand when Hunter was about to see his collarbone. His knees slid over the armrests of his chairs, and the tip of his nose struck Hunter's cheek. He just wanted to reach out and grab him, but he left indifferently. His pretty fingers are hooked on the edge of the jeans, and slowly pulled down, Hunter can see the blood-filled waist line full of male strength from between the sweater and the edge of the jeans.

But Hunter knew very well that he was only looking at Winston's eyes, where he was still sitting, which made him unable to distinguish which of Winston was an illusion and which one was real.

Winston's fingers lifted, gently tapping the edge of the empty wine glass, moving slowly, like ticking every tiny blood vessel in his heart. The corners of his lips were raised, his chin was raised slightly, and Hunter could see his beautiful throat.

Such a smirk seemed to drag Hunter into the abyss of hell.

The author has something to say: salty egg time

Hunter: By the way, did you find it very unpleasant when I met my sister at the bar door?

Winston: Huh.

Hunter: That's bad!

Winston: So I upgraded my technique to keep you from imitating.