【jojo five parts】【velvet rice】Deliberately Shortsighted

Just ask," Mista leaned on the sofa in a more casual posture. "Has my current score passed the passing line?" "

"I thought you should have higher goals."

"I've never liked to embarrass myself." After a while, he asked, "Have you played with anyone before? I mean, with the people here."

Giorno couldn't help laughing. "You're really not very good at finding topics, are you?"

"I'll work harder in the future," he shrugged. "Actually, I just want to ask, there is a guy named Diablo, have you seen it? The one who is bigger than me and dyed his hair pink."

Giorno frowned and thought for a while. "Is that the one who likes to wear mesh tops?" Mista's eyes flickered, but he returned to normal in an instant, and quietly clenched the hands next to his thighs.Giorno saw all this, but didn't say anything. "Why did you ask that person all of a sudden?" he asked, his tone flat and careless, and the casual tone in his tone was very similar to that of Mista; however, Mista could still hear the hint of caution.

"Ah, it's not that I want to ask," he explained to Giorno very fluently according to the excuses he had programmed in his mind. "It's a friend of mine. He came here to play with me once, and he couldn't forget that person after seeing him. Unfortunately, he already had an appointment that night. My friend didn't even have a phone number. Poor guy .” He said with emotion, while sighing pretendingly.

But Giorno just looked at him without making a sound.This was the second time this evening that Mista felt unable to hide under the gaze of this man.When he looked straight over, his whole person seemed to be different.There would never be another moment like this that made it so clear to Mista that lying to this man might not be an option, though he couldn't understand why.This unilateral review is more like a contest without a referee. The rule is to see who can last longer.Mista doesn't think she's the type to be easily tamed, but the opponent's intention to control her is fierce.That gaze cut through his cover accurately and steadily, and strategically placed a heavy weight on his guilty conscience.Although there is a character attribute bonus in this kind of place, the opponent is obviously deeply involved in the play.Mista almost broke out in a cold sweat.

In the end, it was Giorno's voice that freed him.Maybe it was because he had compassion and planned to let him go, or maybe it was just Mista who was suspicious.The blond young man picked up the water glass and swallowed the silence and eyes. "I've seen him once or twice. He usually shows up on weekends. You can ask your friend to try again then."

"Really? Are you sure? I...I mean, I'm afraid that my friend will come here for nothing and complain about me when he goes back."

Giorno ignored him, as if unwilling to repeat the same answer.

While Mista let out a long breath, a burst of excitement swelled up in his heart.finally.He thought that he could finally get close to that man.There was finally a possible crack in the thick shadow that had been haunting and trapping them for months, and maybe after he dug in there, he would watch it spread out and make the whole haze collapse.Yet doubts ensued.It's not the first time he's felt this hope, and past results have been disappointing; he doesn't have any confidence that this time it will turn out differently.This cast another shadow over his finally relaxed mood.

But in the end... Mista pursed her lips.Better than no clue at all.His shoulders are only now beginning to relax slightly.There was no value here tonight, he looked around and planned to chat with this rookie a few more times before finding an excuse to leave.

"You do look stressed," Giorno said suddenly.Mista was startled, and suddenly looked up, but the other party was not looking at him. "You seem to have a lot of things on your mind. Even after sitting here for so long, you've been tense. It seems that something is weighing on your shoulders."

"I—" Mista opened his mouth and wanted to deny it, but then changed his mind.He had to do everything in acting, he paused, and continued according to the previous setting: "...Well, I told you, it's just a matter of work. Forget it, if you don't mention it, it will spoil the fun when you think about it."

The blond man still looked expressionless and his tone was serious, as if he was just stating the facts: "The accumulation of stress is not good for you mentally or physically. Whether you find someone to talk to or vent, I suggest you find a way to relieve it .”

"Hey, hey," Mista said, amused by the young man's serious look. "Are you a psychiatrist?"

"I'm not," Giorno lowered his eyes, and unconsciously scratched his fingers on the armrest of the sofa. "I'm just making suggestions. Since we don't have a relationship yet, the decision is still in your hands. But if you need my help, then I promise you that whatever you say or do will only be Will stay tonight, stay here."

Isn’t it just to decompress, it’s actually not that troublesome, just let it go——Mista didn’t say it, he subconsciously swallowed his saliva, and swallowed it together with this sentence.He wasn't lying when he told Giorno that he was attractive.Although young, this blond boy is impeccable from his appearance to his slightly thin but muscular figure, and judging from the previous conversation, his personality is not annoying.His tone of voice, eyes, and inadvertent manner all hinted that this guy—although he is still a rookie—will become an excellent dom. If he...wait a minute, Mista wailed .Why did I bring myself into this strange role setting so consciously, he thought angrily.It must have been disturbed by the inexplicable atmosphere of this ghost place.

Who doesn't have mental stress these days, Mista thinks there is no need to make a fuss at all.They have been in the police station all year round, fighting against the precarious detection rate with half the effort, they all have various ways to relieve the pressure.For example, Apache’s is to make tea, and Nalanja’s is to do math problems. In the words of the person involved, this is equivalent to fighting poison with fire. The combination of the two can make him reach heaven more quickly.In contrast, Mista's decompression method is quite low-key and old-fashioned.One was sex, the other was alcohol, and the two worked better together, and when he woke up, the headache and great stomach discomfort made him forget about other worries very well.But this effect is obviously not very long-lasting. It is probably as long as the road from your own home or the home of someone you don’t know to the police station. The past haze rushed over fiercely again, pressing on him, heavy and painful.He didn't know if there would be a day when this method would completely fail as if it had reached the expiration date; he never thought about what he would do after it was no longer useful.The clueless case is like a giant spinning machine, slowly encroaching from his working time to his private life, twisting his not-so-successful life to pieces like a puddle of mud.And besides drinking himself into a puddle, or waking up in a rickety cot in some 24-hour fast-food waitress's rented house, Mies has to deal with this miserable life with no end in sight. Da didn't have many solutions, and it never occurred to him to try others, just like he wouldn't try to point out that those women's breasts were obviously fake.

And right now, he is being given another option.A suggestion, the man said.

Giorno gave him time to think and let him make a decision at will.This choice should not have been so difficult.As a policeman, he shouldn't give out any information that might give away confidential information; and as a man, it's not only embarrassing, but motherly, to nagging others about his own shit.Mista told himself over and over again that all he wanted was alcohol, or sex—of course, the latter was better, and he sneaked another glance at Giorno, the spherical chandelier on the ceiling kept spinning It shone with colored light, honing small, iridescent halos in the man's blond hair.The night was no different from the ones he'd spent before, and the man sitting next to him was no different from someone he'd slept with once, or several times.Tonight would not be an exception, and neither would Giorno; even if they were all surrounded by this strange environment and atmosphere.Mista felt bitter in his mouth.Because that's the way life is, he thought, and there's nothing to look forward to.Because that's how his life is.

He opened his mouth, then opened it again.Throat seemed to be dry as hell, blocking his refusal in his throat.Even he himself was taken aback.

Maybe this is an opportunity, maybe this person understands him—or doesn't, but doesn't interrupt him, laugh at him, give him unhelpful sympathetic or pitiful looks, don't comment lightly on him.Perhaps as Giorno said, tonight, here, at this moment, everything he said can be understood and tolerated, but tomorrow it will be forgotten.Maybe he's not the stubborn bastard he thought he was; maybe he's too weak to handle his own affairs, and now he's venting his emotions and complaining about the world to a stranger younger than him, the next second Is he still crying to find his mother?But maybe he was just too tired, not out of weakness, but because of exhaustion.Mentally, physically, maybe before this case started, he had already been drained by life. This case was just an introduction, the last straw, a pair of cruel hands that roughly tore open his skin. The scars beneath which the ugly, unhealed wounds no longer hide.

Maybe you can try it.Said a faint but firm voice in my head.

Shut up.Mista closed her eyes, then opened them again. "I don't know what to say," he said.

Giorno nodded in understanding, this action seemed to give Mista some strength. "Then... let's talk about that project in the company."

"My... working group recently took over a project," he said after thinking for a long time. “At first I thought it was the usual, boring and long project, but one day we received a…document from a competitor and realized it was more difficult than ours Unexpected."

He remembered every detail of that day.In the early morning, there was no wind, and the gloomy sky indicated the coming of rain. The water vapor in the air was heavy, and the low air pressure made people uncomfortable.He drank too much the night before, got up later than usual, and when he walked into the police station, he found a group of people in the lobby.He caught Bucciarati's figure at a glance.Squeezing through the crowd, he patted the team leader on the shoulder, and was about to ask them why they were in a daze here instead of going upstairs to the clue wall—they were chasing a drug gang, and Mista was still there until this second. He thought that this case was just an ordinary drug trafficking case—but he saw the black-haired man's pale face like a piece of paper.He followed Bugarati's stiff gaze, and in front of him was a rectangular horizontal cabinet, in which lay their informant.The poor man was literally sliced, and each piece of flesh was sealed in two glass plates, filled with formalin, and taxidermied.For a moment he couldn't think, as if he couldn't comprehend what was in front of him.The informant stared at him with empty eyes, his mouth gaping open in a silent scream.Mista suddenly felt as if his stomach had been thrown into a huge blender, and he squatted on the ground and vomited.

That day was the beginning of the nightmare.Overnight, all the clues were interrupted, the warehouse was moved, all traces were cleaned up, the trading place was deserted, and all the monitoring lines that the team had exhausted their efforts to establish--cell phones, pagers, landlines-- were all abolished; They never existed the same.There were only corpses one by one, or their informants, witnesses, or punks from other places, all with horrific wounds, were thrown into the abandoned river or alley.They all looked at him with empty eyes.

"From that day on, I realized what kind of quagmire we were drawn into," he stared at a small stain on the floor, which had the illusion of slightly expanding after staring at it for a long time. "I'd love to get this project done. Damn, we all thought the hell out of it. But I don't know what to do. We've had this before, I mean - projects that don't work out, office tasks that don't work out, stuff like that .But never has it made me feel so painful like this time." This case cost them too much.It was too late to stop, and it was futile to continue. "Sometimes I feel like I'm standing in the dark, with my head down and I can't see my feet, and I can't find the way out. But I don't even know if there's a way out. But I gotta go, Jolu Nuo, you understand, I can't stop, there are so many people pushing me away, their eyes are like blaming me for being useless, watching my jokes. Not only me, but everyone in the group Becoming more and more silent, including the smallest and most rowdy guy among my colleagues." He covered his face and rubbed vigorously, "God, how long has it been since I saw that kid smile."

"Maybe the opponent is really too strong, or maybe we are just too weak. I often think, there is no way, I have tried my best, let it go to hell, I lost. But I am not reconciled. But I am not willing Know what to do." It was so hard.He shook his head, mouth full of bitterness.too difficult.

"I've been having fucking nightmares lately," he continued after a pause.Unhappy things are really one after another.His sleep quality has always been very high, but recently he has been having a dream, and he doesn't know if it was caused by this damn case. "I dreamed that I crossed the whole of Italy with my colleagues. We seemed to be going somewhere to protect a female colleague. Florence, Venice, Rome... We traveled far and fought with many people. The strangest thing is those The people's faces are exactly the faces of the former - er, I mean, the rivals of the competing companies. Not a good guy anyway, in or out of the dream. I ended up dreaming that all my companions were dead. Dead or left before. And I didn't save a single one, though I wanted to. If only I had been quicker, if I had been smarter--I've even prayed, if I wish I could change my fate. Then I woke up. Sitting on the bed like a fool, staring at the opposite wall and gasping for breath. But that dream was so realistic. Once I woke up and woke up in the middle of the night. Those bastards made a phone call, but they were either scolded for being crazy, or I was so loud that they fell asleep and told me to wait and not run away the next day. Fuck, when I think about it this way, my life is really miserable. "

He thought of the director who tried to push the unknown corpse to the next jurisdiction in order to solve the crime rate, and even fiddled with the statistics.The high-level people only care about public opinion and popular elections, and take great pains to get the approval ratings of the congressmen they know well.He wanted to punch them in the face.Another time, the whole team spent three days without sleep and finally caught the criminal leader, but the man was finally acquitted because he bribed the witnesses.The pained and unbelievable eyes of the victim's wife after the trial was over, like a silent accusation, straightly gouged his back, dug his bones, and devoured his flesh and blood.He didn't even have the courage to turn around and look at her.

He spoke faster and faster, looking more and more desperate, as if he would explode if he stopped.It wasn't until there was a feeling of being pinched on the wrist that he slowly closed his mouth, as if he was suddenly pulled back to reality, and he was at a loss and at a loss.He watched in a daze as the other's slender and powerful fingers clasped his wrist. He couldn't remember when Giorno put his hand on it.

"Stop," Giorno shook his wrist again, calling his name very softly. "Mista, stop, you need to catch your breath."

Giorno beckoned to the waiter to bring a glass of water, and handed it to Mista.Mista downed half of it in one go.He didn't know if he was dazzled by this strange place, why he said so much at once, and said many things that he didn't even realize.But there is a kind of calming power in this man, which makes him feel that he is believed and understood; he can't figure out why, but his mind is still in a mess.

"I'm... finished. That's it, my life sucks." After calming down, he was half regretful, half ashamed. "Look, I don't really need any therapist, and I don't need your reassurance or sympathy. All I need is a no-consequence sex, and some booze to get my head around, so that tonight I can at least Sleep without stress." He smiled tiredly at Giorno, with some expectations in his eyes, and some pleadings that he didn't realize.

However, Giorno shook his head lightly.Mista instantly felt like someone had poured cold water on her.Just when he felt that he had been tricked and was about to rush forward and grab the other party's collar, the blond young man spoke with a soft yet serious tone: "No, Mista, I don't think this is what you need."

Mista froze for a moment. "Not this?" He slowly understood, and a low growl came out of his throat. "You told me I needed 'not this'? I did what you asked for! You told me to talk to someone about my own shit, I said it, and I was him despite my reluctance Fuck you did! And isn't it time for me to ask?—or as you say, 'suggestion', fuck the advice. Fuck you, Giorno."

Giorno was not angry at his offense at all, the man looked at him seriously with golden eyes, Mista was surprised to see a trace of obvious concern in it, and the irritability in his chest calmed down unconsciously. "I'm sorry to disappoint you," Giorno said slowly and seriously, "but I don't think a casual sex is the best solution. I think what you really need is a punishment. A total, merciless punishment."

"what?"

"You heard what I said."

"I... yes, but why? I don't understand."

"Because it helps you come out faster. Look, you're blaming yourself for something," Giorno said. "Torturing yourself for some mistakes. Even though it wasn't your fault. At least not entirely."

Mista felt that his breath was suffocating, and his body flinched uncontrollably, as if someone had punched him hard on the back of the head, making his brain ache. "Stop joking, you idiot, you—you rookie, what are you? Say that to me." Even though he called his most vicious tone, he knew that his rapidly slumping face and frustrated eyes were betraying Own.And he guessed, Giorno knew too. "...What do you know?" He muttered again after a long silence, his voice was low and frustrated.

"Indeed, it's impossible for me to understand your affairs, and I don't plan to, because it's none of my business. And you're not my responsibility, at least not now." Giorno's tone and content were challenging. No mistake, but Mista just wanted to punch him. "But I do hope that you will understand yourself, or find someone who, with real integrity and care, will make the best choice for you for you - because, with all due respect, you don't seem to care about that. Not very good at it."

"Then are you very good at it?" Mista snorted, but the second half of the voice was weak and distorted like a snuffed candle. "You always say what's the best option, Giorno, and you always act like you're hoping for anything. Unfortunately, most of the time, all options are equally bad, so it's all the same , it doesn't matter at all. Didn't reality teach you this? Or is it that you are too young for the entry standard so it tells you to come back in a few years? But I am different, I am its best fucking student, It loves me as much as it hates me. But then again, maybe I'm worth it, I screwed up so much that it finally lost its trust in me—”

"Mista," Giorno interrupted him.The young man had never acted in such a disrespectful manner, and Mista saw a little anger in his eyes.The blond man paused for a while, then sighed slightly, "I don't want to use an orderly tone, but I think that since you have come here and set yourself up as a sub, you should be enlightened, so you Listen: now, stop blaming yourself." His tone turned harsh for a moment. "I said, it's not your fault. I don't like to repeat what I said, but this time is an exception, so you have to remember it."

"So I'm a special case? Should I be honored?" Mista smiled weakly, and silence fell on the two of them.After a long time, so long that even he thought he would never speak again. "I know," his voice was barely audible.The previous excessive excitement consumed too much energy, and Mista was so tired that he didn't even have the energy to feel ashamed for confessing. "But I still feel guilty."

"That's why you let yourself sink into a life without medicine?"

"Hey, don't call me so stupid, okay? I don't want to. It's just... no way, these things haunt me like ghosts, but I really haven't tried to push them away," he sighed breath, then shrugged. "Probably like you said, it's some kind of self-punishment."

Giorno hummed, "That's why I think that punishment is more useful to you than sex, and that's exactly what you want. Right?"

Mista nodded subconsciously, and after nodding, he realized that at some point, he seemed to be brought back to the previous topic by Giorno, and he got involved in it inexplicably.The worst thing is that the other party sounds logical and there is no way to refute it.

Seeing that Mista had no objection, Giorno continued to explain: "I have met some people like you, who subconsciously feel that they must be punished and must pay some price. I can't comment on the right or wrong of the method you use. , but obviously it's slow and painful. It's more destructive than it looks on the surface. I doubt you'll even stop until it destroys your whole being. I don't want you to. You don't deserve it That's how it ended."

The guy was right.Although unwilling, Mista understands rationally.Before Giorno, no one had ever pointed it out so sharply.No one has ever seen the twisted and ugly pain in his heart, can't help but not be scared away, and will so undisguisedly, directly and frankly bring to him what he has always wanted to avoid, and point it out to him, Not to show off or humiliate him, but with genuine compassion.The light cast a faint shadow under Giorno's nose, and Mista looked up at the man's smooth forehead under the blond hair.Something swelled in his chest, and every heartbeat became slow and powerful.Maybe this person understands him.Perhaps this man could save him.

"so?"

"So let me help you." Giorno spoke slowly and seriously, but he didn't look at him, as if he didn't want to exert any pressure, but waited for him to think carefully.This man has patience beyond his years.

Mista took a deep breath, "How can I help?" Once he made up his mind, the whole person felt incredibly relaxed.Mista even tried to smile at the other party, although his face was still not very good.

Giorno looked up at him with a gentle smile on his face.Then, the man asked him in his usual tone as if he was commenting on the weather: "You asked me before if I could whip. So, do you want to try it now?"

Mista was stunned by the question and almost fell off the sofa.He looked into Giorno's eyes and found that he didn't look like he was joking.Sure enough, he wailed in his heart, and he was too reckless in agreeing. "That's it from the beginning, yes, is it a bit too intense...?" He stammered and asked.At this moment, he can't care about the question of whether to lose face or not.

Giorno raised an eyebrow. "I thought you came to this kind of place to seek this." The man glanced at the other people in the club meaningfully, and they were all immersed in their roles.

I remember that I definitely didn't think so when I first came in, until I was abducted into a ditch by some bastard, Mista thought through gritted teeth.His face was pale, and he smiled weakly: "You're right, but I didn't expect the person I met to be a rookie."

"To each other," Giorno smirked, and the smile suddenly looked particularly evil on his face. "I think we all need to trust each other a little bit more, don't we?"

At first, Mista thought that they would also go to the designated area of ​​the club like everyone else, but Giorno just beckoned to the waiter and whispered a few words, and it didn't take long for them to be placed in the box they were in. A whole set of flogging implements.

"How did you do it?" He looked in awe at the metal brackets and ropes as tall as a person, and a row of leather whips neatly placed on the coffee table, and said, "I thought we were going to the wall side."

Giorno shrugged indifferently, as if it was just a trivial matter, "Anywhere is fine. The ones on the other side of the wall are usually of a performance nature, and it will be more private in the private room." He paused, "Or, do you prefer to go there?" There was a clear hint of teasing in the young man's eyes.

Mista waved his hand quickly, "No, it's fine here." He glanced at all kinds of whips—leather whips, rubber whips, and even sculls among them—and swallowed , "Are we really going to start so soon?"

Giorno was adjusting the length of the bracket rope, when he heard this hesitation, he stopped his movements.He sighed and turned to Mista. "If you regret it, it's best to say no now," the man's tone was very serious, "You have to make sure this is what you want, otherwise I won't continue." He paused, his expression slowed down, "This It'll be safe. But if you don't want to do this, no one can make you. I promise."

Mista froze for a moment, then nodded without thinking for a long time.It was unbelievable to say that he had only met him an hour or two ago and had a few conversations with him. He didn't know anything about his identity, personality, and preferences in real life, but Mista felt that he believed in the man in front of him.I don't know if I am born with full confidence, or if there is something in the other party that infected him.Maybe both. "Come on, Giorno," he said word for word, "I want this."

Giorno seemed to be examining his sincerity, and then smiled happily. "Very well," he said, "then one more thing to be sure of before we begin. Since I might tie you up, what's your safe word?"

safe word?Mista remembered that he had indeed seen an explanation of this.He thought for a while, then grinned and said, "'Sexy Pistol', do you like it?" After speaking, he licked his lower lip suggestively.

"It's very suitable for you," Giorno laughed softly, but then, his expression changed suddenly, and he ordered sharply, "Now, quickly lie down on the shelf over there."

The man's voice is not loud, but the tone cannot be defied.Mista was taken aback by this sudden turn, and turned to look at the brackets in the box.It was a metal bracket as tall as a person. The whole body was painted black. There was a heavy triangular support on both sides at the bottom, so that it could stand firmly on the ground; the top of the shelf was a beam as thick as a cup , with a buckle at each end.

Seeing that he didn't move, Giorno's face darkened. "Go. You heard me," he growled. "I don't like laziness and disobedience. Please don't try."

Mista muttered something, slowly got up and walked towards the shelf.As soon as he took two steps, he was suddenly pushed against the wall by Giorno, causing a pain in his shoulder blade.He subconsciously reached out and grabbed the opponent's arm and pushed it out, but was surprised to find that he couldn't struggle.Giorno's strength was astonishing, and the hands on his shoulders were as motionless as iron clamps.It was only then that Mista realized that there were hard and firm muscles under his palm, it seemed that this guy was not as thin as he looked on the outside.The faint anger revealed by the man is real and dangerous, but it is wrapped in calm self-control, which is contradictory and attractive.He swallowed unconsciously, not knowing what would happen next, and clearly heard the sound of his heart beating violently.

"Your current identity is a sub. You are nothing but this." Giorno leaned close to his face, his facial features were immersed in shadow due to the lack of light, and only a pair of eyes were slightly bright; His eyes were firmly pressed against the wall, unable to move. "Getting orders, executing - procrastinating and complaining is unprofessional and you can't be a rookie all your life. You play the game, then you have to play by the rules, or you won't get what you want. Got it Yet?"

Mista stared at him for a while, then finally looked away and nodded. "OK."

"Not 'yes'. You say yes, sir."

He frowned, "Why?"

Giorno growled, "Because I said so. Do you understand?"

"Understood... sir." He whispered.

"Very good." Giorno let go of his hand, and Mista was liberated from that terrifying sense of oppression. "Now," said the blond man.Mista nodded and walked towards the metal bracket.

Giorno motioned him to stretch out his left hand, and wrapped a piece of oil-soaked hemp rope around his wrist, asking him how to adapt to the tightness. He quickly tied a firm knot on one side, and then tied the other side of the rope. One end passed through the buckle on the side of the beam at the top of the bracket, and the length of the rope was adjusted to make his arm tense; then, the other arm was also hoisted.Giorno fetched another rope, slightly thicker than the previous one. "Because it's your first time doing this, maybe the reaction will be relatively large. If you move around, the landing point of the whip will be deviated. Although I don't think I will make a mistake, but for the sake of safety," he squatted down and pulled the rope Going around Mista's ankles, "I will tie your feet this time." His hands were strong, and Mista's feet were firmly fixed. Mista tried to twist slightly After a while, it really doesn't have a large range of motion.He fought back the tension that this feeling of restraint produced.

After doing all this, Giorno stood up, "Because you are tied tightly, so if you want to stop, don't try to struggle, it's useless; just say the safe word." The blond man looked at him for a while. Yes, make sure Mista understands what he means.Then he continued to speak: "There is one last thing to confirm. Tonight, did you drink alcohol before you met me? Or did you take any medicine?"

Mista frowned, but Giorno didn't look like he was looking for an excuse to ridicule him.So he honestly shook his head, "No, sir."

"That's good," Giorno checked the rope one last time, and then reached out and slid his hand gently on the neckline of Mista's vest. "You must be sober throughout the process. Alcohol