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Working as a priest, no matter for what purpose you took this role, will always require all your strength and time.
It was hard to even call it work.
Rather, it is a full-fledged way of life, to which you must devote your head and body, otherwise the Lord will be very offended.
Well, or so the older nuns said.
How true this is is another question.
But you might as well not believe in the Bible.
Faith is the first thing every priest should think about.
And when a prisoner who has served a long sentence for things no one even wants to hear about is brought to your church, faith is put to a serious test.
Sorbet no longer remembered when exactly it happened, everything was as if in a fog.
2 years?
Perhaps 3.
But he still periodically returns to the thought of how much these old men believe in people, that even such scum are released before their appointed time and immediately sent to correctional labor with those whose lives they once took.
It was hard at first.
But rather morally, thinking about the injustice he was forced to work and live with.
Because the former killer himself was quite harmless.
Yes, he could shirk work, pester and laugh at the nuns, but a couple of skillful kicks and this idiot was already hobbling off to change the old candles.
It was amazing that such a harmless and sweet name had ever been given to such a person.
But the worst thing was that they had become closer faster than Sorbet had ever been to anyone in his entire life.
They almost always walked together, sat next to each other, unless it was Sorbet's turn to read the scriptures to the guests, even when Gelato was doing his assigned work, he could sit nearby.
They both knew it wasn't just for the sake of discipline.
If only because when Gelato first appeared in the church, Sorbet was the first one who almost made everyone around him die from toxic shock, how much hatred he exuded just by his appearance.
As a still student priest, whom the older fathers persistently didn't want to let anywhere higher in the hierarchy, Sorbet was sent to the meeting almost at another end of Italy to listen and "gain experience" from the older ones from churchs, cooperate with their.
Of course, he couldn't deny himself the pleasure of taking a chain dog with him to scare away unwanted guests from himself or justify certain actions.
Yes, at first he was refused, but he had some skills in conviction, some of which, in fact, he would prefer to avoid and in general never remember again, but what worked it worked.
Taking under his responsibility, what, in general, he always did when it came to Gelato, they were allow to visit a place that all the newcomers, who came sincerely believing in their place under the sun, dreamed.
He actually absolutely didn’t care about it, including educational measures and all those people with whom he had to meet.
Moreover, upon arrival they even ran away almost at the very beginning of the performance.
Just to go to the outskirts of the city to an abandoned church.
Not because it was creepy or have “ghosts” inside.
It was a work of art.
Art abandoned by all, easily rejected only because it had been the site of a not very pleasant incident involving one of the clergy.
But Sorbet had always wanted to visit here.
The pinnacle of architectural work, all those patterns, paintings and writings could not fail to amaze even him.
– There is not even dust here.
Sorbet notices as soon as he goes deeper and decides to run his thin fingertips along the benches, candelabrum, feeling the curves of the carved patterns of black metal and ebony under his skin with admiring breathlessness.
Walking into the depths of the huge building, Sorbet's clothes, as black as resin, together with this black short hair were almost lost against the background of the general darkness of the church, only the white collar and stole with golden crosses distinguished him.
– Stupidity. To abandon such a place because of a small murder. This is the height of disrespect.
– Yeah. I thought it was normal for priests to have such fun with children.
Sorbet freezes as he catches a fleeting, dull laugh from Gelato, who has lazily sat down on one of the old benches.
He doesn't comment on it, leaving a tense hint hanging in the air, and only briefly glancing over his shoulder at him.
– Light the candles. I want all these paintings to see how I'll beat your face in for such jokes.
– How do you think I should do it?
The semblance of a threat, something that even Sorbet himself couldn't call it, flew past Gelato's ears. He was more concerned with the order, for which there were clearly not enough materials.
Even if there were enough, he still doesn't know how to use all these church things.
All that time of his "re-education" he did only dirty work.
However, it was probably not worth expecting anything else.
At least they fed him well.
Well, not very well, but Sorbet gave him his food.
Although, looking at how thin this man was, this food had a taste of awkwardness, as if he had taken the last piece of shoe sole from a dying cat.
But since he gave it himself, he had nothing to worry about.
Right?
Sorbet doesn't have time to turn away before he again casts a mute, but much more verbose, oppressive look at him, as if he were trying to teach the command "voice" to a mute dog.
Fortunately, this dog wasn’t retarded, because Gelato, albeit rolling his eyes, gets up from his seat and rummages in the pockets of his shorts, from where he reluctantly, going to the nearest candelabra, takes out a lighter.
He lazily lights the candles with a few clicks of the lighter, which is already on the verge.
The gas inside was already running out, which made it impossible to shake off the oppressive feeling inside from the fact that a little more and access to smoking would be completely limited.
Stop, no.
That's not why.
His body involuntarily, subconsciously freezes, feeling how the muscles in his entire body suddenly become hot, striking with a stabbing impulse on his temples and chest.
Heartbeat quickens, breathing becomes more difficult.
Brain rushed between the desire to run and freeze, not giving him a chance to figure out where the threat came from specifically here.
Almost dropping the candelabra, Gelato turns and swings his arm in an attempt to defend himself or fight back.
However, in the most unexpected outcome, all attempts to counterattack are skillfully blocked, leaving him disarmed, confused and tense.
How-
How did the priest even manage to parry his blow?
Shocked, he is knocked down and forced to fall with all his weight on his back, hitting his head and still dropping several candelabra.
Sorbet does not allow him to jump up from his place, roughly and heavily sitting on top, pressing Gelato to the patterned floor.
With a bit of horror in his trembling pupils, he opens his eyes wide, expecting anything, but seeing the barrel of a pistol pointed right at him.
But that wasn't the scariest thing.
The scariest thing was that his stand worked at all and sounded the alarm at this gesture.
– Scared?
Gelato is not only at a loss for words, his brain is completely at a loss as he tries to break through the screaming impulses in his head and comprehend the situation.
His gaze jumps from the smugly grinning Sorbet to the barrel and back, when suddenly the stand cuts off the signal, leaving him in reverent silence, but only more confused.
– That's how your stand works, right?
Gelato hesitates, his eyes darting restlessly over Sorbet's face in a blind attempt to read, to understand the man's intentions and his thinking in general.
– Were you really going to shoot?
– Yes.
A discouraging answer that left him speechless.
He grins and twitches as his Stand activates again, causing his entire body to react uncontrollably but leaving him unable to release all of that rare surge of adrenaline.
It was like a sixth sense, an instinct in animals, requiring the owner to run, not to stand still, but the human consciousness was still persistently in conflict, not believing that they would kill him here, now, and by the person from whom he least expected it.
A second later, the stand begins to almost literally drill into his temples, and he twitches his hands in a blind attempt to somehow protect himself.
A shot rings out and Gelato's heart almost stops, as if a racing car had crashed into a wall at full speed.
The stand goes silent as the echo spreads throughout the empty church.
Although not immediately, like a mouse in the corner, he takes his hands away from his face and sees the gun shifted a few millimeters to the side, fired into the floor next to his head.
So close that it hit his ear, leaving a small wound on the tip.
– You're crazy.
Sorbet finally pushes the gun away, still smelling of burning, resting his hand on his knee with a satisfied look.
– That was hot..
Sorbet hums contentedly, but soon stands up, leaning on his chest beneath him, prompting Gelato to close his legs like a fox enticing with its appearance.
But, in the end, only because he could really vouch for his words about how mesmerizing and mind-blowing this priest could be in his dark grandeur.
– But I don't get it.
– Not surprised.
Sorbet makes a show of almost purring as he answers, not even bothering to turn around as he saunters along the main path between the benches before coming over and sitting on the ledge in front of the speaker's seat, watching as Gelato gradually stands up, not even noticing his slightly bleeding ear.
Was it possible to judge him?
His head was now filled with completely different things.
Including still puzzled by how this man managed to deceive his stand, which was able to sense a person's very secret intentions, and not just evaluate external behavior.
– It's obvious to the naked eye.
As expected, he was not very talkative even on this matter.
Sorbet leans back calmly, his arms draped over the ledge above, while Gelato slowly, perhaps even oddly reluctantly, makes his way towards him, no longer quite sure what kind of person is in front of him.
– Okay. Let's say so. Should I guess your stand then?
Sorbet doesn't comment on this. The corners of his lips lift slightly before a slight, prejudiced sneer escapes them, and then, a little later, the tip of a cigarette is pressed to them.
– Smoking in church? How disrespectful.
Gelato himself can't help but smile, but it quickly fades, and his Adam's apple trembles heavily in his throat.
Pursing his lips, he languidly watches, without taking his eyes off, how Sorbet first catches the edge of the cigarette extended to him with his teeth and then embraces it with his thin lips.
However, for some reason he suddenly moves away from the offered cigarette.
Not because his conscience or sense of duty has awakened in him.
Almost immediately he switches over and does the same with the neighboring cigarette, picking it up, pulling it out with his tongue and then taking it into his mouth, finally pulling the bitter bundle out of the pack.
– You can try, but I'm not sure of your success.
With a light, leisurely movement, Sorbet takes the cigarette from his mouth with two fingers, holding it in one position and waiting for it to be kindly lit.
Gelato's eyes, however, could not help but catch with all their common sense the cigarette moistened with other's saliva at the edge.
Without doubting his actions for a moment, he takes it with his lips, which he could not help but catch Sorbet's satisfied look.
Finally, exhaling freely, feeling and savoring the sensation of light moisture on his lips with his whole body, he leans over and lights Sorbet's cigarette first, and only then his own.
– Don't you believe in me, father?
Clearly irritated, but Sorbet tactfully remained silent, instead of verbally breaking down, squeezed the cigarette tighter between his teeth.
After all, allowing oneself a cigarette at least sometimes was far from a frequent pleasure.
In life as a whole, there was little pleasure.
Exhaling the first stream of single, lung-burning smoke, he throws his head back.
Gelato can't help but notice how he takes a dominant and power-exuding pose, inviting him to run into it or sit on his knees.
He wasn't entirely sure yet, but the sight definitely awakened something in him every time.
Although the sorbet has quite a thin physique, what, it's difficult to deny, a completely understandable phenomenon, although therefore no less attractive, but with this he also has a male body that is generally accepted in the standard.
Wide shoulders, thin hips, reminiscent of a spider, beckoning in a web.
And while his deceptive appearance and status might have fooled everyone else, Gelato couldn't shake the strange, persistent feeling that he could easily snap your neck and slit your throat while you slept.
All of this, of course, couldn't help but take his breath away just from the thought.
– Do you want to tell me how a week ago a terrified sister ran away from the wing with your room?
– Your sister?
– A nun, idiot.
Gelato grins, clearly holding back his laughter, meeting the usual serious and rude answer.
– Well...
Taking the cigarette out of his mouth between his fingers, he exhales smoke through his nose and hangs over, leaning his foot on the very top ledge on Sorbet's side, which didn't cause him to give him anything other than a fleeting, nondescript accompanying glance.
– I suppose she was afraid she wouldn't be able to resist this handsome man.
With a satisfied look, Gelato adjusted his golden, unruly and slightly curly hair with the hand holding the cigarette, while the other leaned on his half-bent knee. Sorbet, of course, could have called him an idiot now, but he preferred to watch carefully and wait for this semblance of a human to set himself on fire.
– Yeah. Or because you jerked off in the middle of the night right in front of the icon.
At first, Gelato's expression doesn't change at all, feeling neither shame nor remorse for what he did.
After all, he didn't accept these stupid rules, and in general he's here against his will.
However, Sorbet changes this on his own.
– And by stealing my cross.
The smile quickly slips, no, flies off his face from the discouraging addition, and only having the strength to silently look at Sorbet's face, who seemed to be only waiting for an interesting reaction.
An awkward laugh escapes Gelato's lips, without expecting it, not fully understanding the reason for his own such a reaction.
– As if you didn't do the same.
– No.
Okay.
Now he doesn't find it funny.
Well, no, it does, because the fact that the priests maintain the purity of their bodies and follow freedom from the sin of carnal pleasures sounded ridiculous and stupid.
He'd seen a lot of shit, been to places this little daddy had never dreamed of.
After all, he was also older, even if only a little.
But somehow hearing all this under that oppressive and... condemning?
Expectant, predatory gaze was something unbearable and breaking.
– So what? I won't apologize for this.
– I'm not asking for.
Now that was awkward.
Gelato frowns openly and genuinely at his own confusion and such a reaction, his eyes darting a little restlessly over Sorbet's relaxed face before finally looking away with a quiet, sharp clicking sound.
– You really are crazy. I don't understand you.
– I suppose your lack of understanding is far greater than you think.
Gelato glances at Sorbet with a puzzled expression, catching the way his thin lips tighten around the cigarette before his little innocent priest shocks him by slamming into the fragile walls of the sacred temple with an echoing clank of his buckle.
Long, thin fingers close around his belt and yank it towards him, almost making him fall over in surprise.
To regain his balance, he rests his hand on Sorbet's shoulder, even though he's afraid he might break it.
His own tongue was failing him, twisted and failing to find even a semblance of words.
Cigarette, to his horror and bitter regret, also flew to the floor, but Sorbet quickly put it out.
With his fingers.
Damn, this man was driving him crazy with every new gesture, even, it seemed, without thinking.
The Queen of the Night herself has descended to earth to give him the most blissful punishment.
– You don't really think all those old men didn't fuck when they were deacons, do you?
– Well... no?
Gelato pouts as Sorbet lets out a small chuckle.
He can only swallow nervously as an elegant thumb rubs against his belt buckle.
– Wait. So you did fuck?
– Let's just say I'd prefer not to.
This answer leaves Gelato squinting in confusion, not really understanding where their conversation was going or what all these confusing words even meant.
Guessing hints isn't his strong point.
The only thing left was to try to find the answer in the stoic, gloomy face, didn't even notice his belt click.
He shudders, returning to reality and seeing how Sorbet slowly, measuredly unbuttons his pants, the fly jingling and the coarse cheap fabric rustling.
And there was no particular desire to resist.
It was strange after their conversation and especially the last words, but could he refuse something that he had thought about for so long?
Not about the blow job.
He was more concerned about the person who would be doing it now.
Without any objections, Gelato gently lifts the hem of his shirt, revealing a lower abdomen with a trail of golden hair running down, perfectly emphasizing the curves of his abdominal muscles and strong thighs.
The sight alone was quite appetizing.
Who would have thought that being with a cock on display in church would be so embarrassing.
Or maybe it was because of Sorbet.
Gelato can't take his eyes off the way he takes a drag with one hand while the other slowly explores, strokes, and caresses semi-hard cock.
Sorbet's unpredictable behavior has really had a strong effect on him.
– I guess sucking isn't part of "carnal pleasures."
– There are nuances.
Gelato didn't quite understand these words either, but he wasn't sure he really needed to.
Certainly not when his cock was halfway to the mouth of the man who had originally been assigned to be his trustee.
He exhales heavily as Sorbet's tongue slowly slides over the tip, circling the soft head and teasing the sensitive, lazily leaking hole.
– If you cum in my mouth…
With a hint of menace in his voice, Sorbet warns, and almost immediately presses his lips to the head and caresses it with his tongue in a circle, deliberately rubbing it against the pulsating urethra and terrorizing the protruding edges filled with nerve endings.
A light laugh flows from Gelato's trembling lips, almost turning into a groan from the feeling and sight of how these untouched lips are caring for his cock with all the attention and desire.
– You know, for a man who was in prison…
Sorbet rolled his eyes and was about ready to go and beat the talkative idiot with a book stand if he opened his mouth one more time, but he wasn't about to give up his own pleasure that easily.
Lowering his grip closer to the base, he was about to start the meal itself, but first he knocked a painful growl out of Gelato, caused by a tenacious bite in the stomach area.
Only now, with a pure soul and even a fleeting smile, he pressed the head to his tongue, without warning or a moment for awareness, sliding it deeper and sending Gelato to the next world, doing a somersault, and returning back.
Who would have thought that he would miss these sensations so much that he was ready to forget about everything, and every time he opened his eyes and saw Sorbet, he would stop breathing altogether.
With a quiet moan involuntarily escaping from his throat, he accepted one thrust of the head after another, unable to suppress a smile from the sensation of how persistently and diligently that modest mouth worked around his cock.
Not that he was complaining, not at all.
Rather, he was touched by how clumsy, noticeably inexperienced and not fully understanding what to do the movements were.
But the zeal with which Sorbet did it, time after time, pretending not to choke, swallowing the pulsating organ, forcing it with those wet, velvety walls to harden and ooze in a way that Gelato couldn't even imagine.
– How did I deserve such a generous reward, father?
He catches a fleeting glimpse of the dark look, but doesn't attach much meaning to it, accepting it with a satisfied expression and slowly, carefully lowering his palm onto Sorbet's hair, fingering the soft, short black locks.
Rough, life-worn fingers squeeze them gently, to which he immediately receives a response.
A barely perceptible tingling runs through his body, which he wouldn't even pay attention to if the next moment a full-fledged alarm hadn't hit his temples, to which, however, he doesn't have time to react, as Sorbet again catches him off guard, pressing the smoldering edge of a cigarette to his hand.
– FUCK. I don't understand how you manage to trick my stand!
Gelato hisses, shaking his hand in an attempt to dull the burning pain.
– For this, it is enough to be a little smarter than a rock.
Even though he squinted at Sorbet, it was hard to be angry, to think about anything at all except the slightly swollen pink lips, wet with saliva and pre-cum, licked by the ingratiating tongue that had recently rubbed so sweetly against the aching member pulsating in the aristocratic palm.
Sorbet chuckled at Gelato's grin, focusing more on the more pleasant companion below.
Holding the half-burned cigarette, which was dropping ash onto the gloomy floor, with one hand, resting it calmly on his tense thigh, he patiently stroked the slippery organ with the fingers of the other, twitching in a plea for attention.
But the owner of this active friend held on as best he could, afraid to scare away the atmosphere.
– Why don't you put your new friend in this cute mouth?
– Why don't you shut up.
Sorbet almost spits venom, but gets back to business and slowly pushes the organ back into the hot and wet mouth, just to make Gelato shut up.
The tongue carefully goes over every fold, curve, muscle, moving first at the head to tease the most sensitive area, what he knew only to his own shame, carefully circling it with his lips and making Gelato see the white light several times.
It was becoming unbearable with every new movement and Gelato was ready to growl like a wild bear, clenching his hands into fists and holding back with all his remaining strength from attacking this leisurely, smug head.
But even under the pressure of overflowing excitement, he was still not such a complete idiot, still soberly realizing that now it was not an option to raise his hands.
– You’re just torture, Father.
Well, apparently, it's impossible to shut him up under any circumstances.
Sorbet mutters muffled, clearly with indignation in her tone, around the twitching cock, trying to take more and more as much as possible, swallowing the hard length, feeling every pulsating vein, and trying to find the most successful angle, a way to breathe.
As soon as he manages to take a little more than half of it, with God's or the Devil's help, every nerve in his body immediately tenses up as Gelato, as if ingratiating himself with the puma, drops his hands on his shoulders, convulsively curling up on top.
Well, apparently he was pretty good at that after all.
Gelato exhales long and hard, feeling how the head moves on his cock more confidently and concentratedly, although sometimes catching with its teeth, it seems, a little more and he going crazy from the soft moisture.
Gritting his teeth, he roughly with sharp movements takes Sorbet's throat with one hand, and with the other squeezing the hair on the back of his head, firmly not allowing him to make that ill-fated jerk to pull away.
– It's not that I didn't want to sit here all night with a cock in your mouth, but torture was clearly not in my plans.
Gelato wheezed breathlessly, resisting Sorbet's attempts to break free with all his might, only pushing him and moving his hips towards that fragile mouth, with some difficulty, but pushing deeper through the root of the tongue, feeling the cockhead hitting it.
The ragged moans and grunts were just music, devilishly pleasant music, for which he was ready to do anything, unable to hold back a smile from the feeling of the Adam's apple trembling and twitching under his fingers.
– Breathe through and relax your throat. It will be easier for both of us.
Sorbet, hitting nose into Gelato's tense lower abdomen with each thrust of his cock into his throat, strains, but remains sane, finding the last of his strength to reach out and press, without lifting it, the smoldering edge of the cigarette to the hand squeezing his throat, even through the blinding haze in his eyes, aiming at the area with thin skin.
However, now he blindly ignores this gesture, continuing to selflessly hammer into the tight, squeezing throat, even ignoring not so much the pain as the acute reaction of the stand, no matter how hard Sorbet tries until the moment when the Cigarette goes out completely.
Amazing man.
Amazingly arrogant and wild.
Throwing the cigarette butt aside with a deft flick, Sorbet accepts his fate, after all, he had been taught this all his life, although it was impossible to deny the slight note of pleasure from all this, but someone will still get a small educational lesson later, when his throat stops being rammed with rough and careless blows.
Even through his own throbbing temples and the weight of the strange sounds pressing down on him as cock rubbed against his lips and tongue, he could hear Gelato's heavy breathing, more like a mangy parrot seeing a female.
In addition to his ragged breathing, it was even easier to notice the increasingly ragged and inconsistent jolts that heralded the insistently approaching end.
And this finale began to unpleasantly step on his heels earlier than he would like. He shudders, but even follows the instructions, trying to understand what to do first, and only then relaxing his throat, choking from the air that just burst inside.
Gelato instantly, with animalistic savagery, immediately takes advantage of this, slowly but at the same time quickly plunging himself completely inside, pressing Sorbet with nose and lips into his thighs and remaining in this position for some time, feeling how the walls of his throat begin to tremble, how the root of tongue tenses and pushes into the frozen thickness.
And in response to the restless tongue, he begins to make small thrusts, almost without removing his cock, inside the throat, in order to finally finish himself. The head thoroughly rubbed against the soft walls, unprepared for such treatment, and reveled in the feeling of how they began to convulsively contract around him, when Sorbet began to choke and gag, unable to breathe in such a position and struggling with the gag reflex.
– Mmmhffuuuck.. you just..
Gelato howls, uncontrollably rolling his eyes in indescribable, cherished pleasure, squeezed in these sweet, soft vices.
The walls of the church echo as he quietly utters "Sorbet" before putting a bold point in his pursuit of pleasure.
Sorbet's struggle with his own body becomes extremely difficult when a stream of lingering semen splashes into his mouth and throat, finally breaking free from the overwhelming caresses and attention in a full-fledged dive.
He chokes, coughing raggedly around the crushing thickness, which has deprived him of any opportunity to breathe due to the thick liquid and leaving no choice, no, no opportunity, except to swallow everything that is offered to him, through tears in the corners of his eyes.
Sorbet reflexively raises his hand as he feels a few drops start to trickle down his chin due to carelessness and his own coughing.
He manages to slap his hand down his thigh a few times before Gelato uses his own hands to pull Sorbet off his cock, spilling the rest of it all over the place despite his attempts to hold it in.
But the surprises, particularly the not-so-pleasant ones, don't end there, catching fleetingly how Gelato milks a few more shots out of himself with a few calm movements, sending them straight to Sorbet's face and reveling in the sight of the priest desperately gulping air, coughing up.
– Let me remember this picture well..
Drunk with carnal pleasures, much more than any alcohol, Gelato wheezes, firmly holding eyes shut Sorbet by the hair, while his other hand continued to lazily stroke his own slowly softening member, pressing the tip and smearing the seed on his cheekbone, lips.
– I'll imagine this during your service.
He laughs slightly when Sorbet roughly pushes his hand aside.
– Idiot. How am I supposed to clean up now-
He interrupts himself, suddenly distracted by Gelato, first catching a fleeting idea, and then him himself, suddenly grabbing him, not allowing him to take a step back, by his white shirt and pulling him back, thereby prompting him to come closer.
No resistance, no swearing, with all calm Gelato only feigns offended pout, but with a smile watching how diligently and thoroughly Sorbet wipes his face, reminiscent of a cat licking itself in the morning in front of its owner.
Having finished his impromptu bathing routine, he finally gets up, albeit still a little disappointed with his dirty shirt, but perhaps no one will notice, while Gelato tidies himself up, no longer giving a damn and also wiping himself with his own shirt.
– Give me your hand.
Suddenly Sorbet calls out to him, causing him to instantly raise his gaze, albeit puzzled, which almost immediately became tense, especially after the tingling vibrations that his stand sent ran through his body.
However, even despite this, he still extended his hand, as he was told.
But before he could fully turn his hand palm up, Gelato first felt a rich, shooting blow to his temples and chest and, without even thinking, pulled his hand away.
– HEY.
He barely has time to jump back, and then a bullet from a cleverly grabbed pistol flies into the place where his hand was, accompanied by a ringing shot, hitting the walls of God's house with a painful echo, but immediately after, without giving time for awareness and especially maneuver, Sorbet raises the pistol higher and shoots Gelato in the shoulder, forcing him to drown out the sound with his own broken voice.
– BITCH.
Trying to dodge without controlling the hysterical howl of the Stand in his head only makes things worse, ending up with a bullet right in his joint.
– What the FUCK.
– Don't call me "Father" when we do something like this.
Gelato hisses, unable to feel his numb arm, which was desperately trying to regain at least some of its sensation.
Holding the bleeding wound, which stains the surrounding skin, arm, clothes bloody red, and drips down, perfectly emphasizing the black floor.
The left half of his body partially, at least for a few moments, goes numb after his arm, prompting him to meekly fall to his knee.
It would be a terrible realization that he would have to stew in hellish pain until they... he himself would not find a way to treat it.
But, as soon as the full meaning of these words reaches him, Gelato can not help but smirk, as if he has forgotten about any pain, raising an ingratiating gaze to Sorbet.
– So it will happen again?
The caustic interest didn't elicit much of a reaction, other than the rolling of his eyes, with which Sorbet turned and walked past.
– There was a first aid kit in the car.