[My, my, did the priest want to be locked away, with only Mukuro to keep him company? He could feel the priest's want like fingers against the knobs of his spine, taste his shudder like liquid gold on his tongue, heavy and cloying. He wanted everything, wanted to devour the priest whole until there was nothing but bones to break between his teeth. And yet, he withdrew, to give them both distance, heading back to the clothes he had so easily discarded before. The question was met with a small laugh, Mukuro shrugging a shoulder carelessly.]
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Not often. It's been centuries. Why?