[For not the first time, he wonders what on earth he had been expecting when he had answered the phone, or set out another mug of tea. For the demon to keep his hands to himself? Foolish. That time had clearly been an outlier, a one time event.]
[This is the norm between them: Mukuro tantalizingly close, every word dipped in pure temptation, sweet sin with every graze of their skin.]
[Why is it like this? Why is it that even just the brush of his lips against Chikusa's pulse point makes his legs want to give out from beneath him and his cock start to throb from in the confines of his jeans? No one else's touch does this to him, so why does it have to be the demon? And why does it have to be the demon which hits bulls eye on every one of his points?]
[Because it's true- not even his anger could keep his body wanting what it wanted. More than one night had found him biting into his pillow, shallowly rutting against his mattress and imagining another's body pressed against him instead of cool and unsatisfying sheets.]
[Thickly, Chikusa swallows. No. He has to resist. He can't just let the demon waltz right in and do as he pleases once again. His hands, still wrapped around the mug, tremble slightly. Stop this. He has to stop this. So he does the first thing he can think of- ]
[He dumps what's left of his tea over the demon's front.]
no subject
[This is the norm between them: Mukuro tantalizingly close, every word dipped in pure temptation, sweet sin with every graze of their skin.]
[Why is it like this? Why is it that even just the brush of his lips against Chikusa's pulse point makes his legs want to give out from beneath him and his cock start to throb from in the confines of his jeans? No one else's touch does this to him, so why does it have to be the demon? And why does it have to be the demon which hits bulls eye on every one of his points?]
[Because it's true- not even his anger could keep his body wanting what it wanted. More than one night had found him biting into his pillow, shallowly rutting against his mattress and imagining another's body pressed against him instead of cool and unsatisfying sheets.]
[Thickly, Chikusa swallows. No. He has to resist. He can't just let the demon waltz right in and do as he pleases once again. His hands, still wrapped around the mug, tremble slightly. Stop this. He has to stop this. So he does the first thing he can think of- ]
[He dumps what's left of his tea over the demon's front.]
I told you to stop.