[All Mukuro has to do is get up and wariness jolt through him. Deny him. He can deny him. Of course he can. He's a priest, he's been denying demons for some years now. Besides that, he knows that this creature is only after him to corrupt him, tempt him, drag him into hell. It should be easy.]
[So why does his heart still quicken at the coy way the demon tilts his head to the side, the way those plush lips curl so invitingly?]
[All over again, he's frozen with his cheeks still blazing and his heart hammering in his chest. Now, now he knows what it's like to be kissed- the perfect way lips could be slotted against his, the pleasant softness that was hard to have enough of, the heat settling against him, a tongue sliding against his and making tremors go up his spine with inquisitive and adventurous movements...]
[For a moment, it's almost easy to give in.]
[But then he remembers other things.]
[That mocking laugh. The repulsive arrogant smirk. The way every conversation attempted to smear his faith, the jabs at his own life.]
[It's felt too much like losing.]
[Deep in his chest, a spark of flame different than arousal flickers into existence.]
[He is so sick of losing to this demon that's been trying to mangle the one thing in this life he truly has.]
[It's a rush of feelings and thoughts that jumble together almost all at once as Mukuro leans in close, breath warm and near to Chikusa's lips before it all becomes too much. Almost out of nowhere, something snaps, and the red of arousal twists into shame and anger and pride.]
[Chikusa isn't really thinking. His body decides for him, fueled by the passionate mix of emotions, and he snaps one suddenly formed fist up at Mukuro's face.]
[For the record: he has never hit another person even once in his life. If this hits, it's going to hurt both of them.]
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[So why does his heart still quicken at the coy way the demon tilts his head to the side, the way those plush lips curl so invitingly?]
[All over again, he's frozen with his cheeks still blazing and his heart hammering in his chest. Now, now he knows what it's like to be kissed- the perfect way lips could be slotted against his, the pleasant softness that was hard to have enough of, the heat settling against him, a tongue sliding against his and making tremors go up his spine with inquisitive and adventurous movements...]
[For a moment, it's almost easy to give in.]
[But then he remembers other things.]
[That mocking laugh. The repulsive arrogant smirk. The way every conversation attempted to smear his faith, the jabs at his own life.]
[It's felt too much like losing.]
[Deep in his chest, a spark of flame different than arousal flickers into existence.]
[He is so sick of losing to this demon that's been trying to mangle the one thing in this life he truly has.]
[It's a rush of feelings and thoughts that jumble together almost all at once as Mukuro leans in close, breath warm and near to Chikusa's lips before it all becomes too much. Almost out of nowhere, something snaps, and the red of arousal twists into shame and anger and pride.]
[Chikusa isn't really thinking. His body decides for him, fueled by the passionate mix of emotions, and he snaps one suddenly formed fist up at Mukuro's face.]
[For the record: he has never hit another person even once in his life. If this hits, it's going to hurt both of them.]
[Whups.]