[It was a good thing for the priest that he did decide to answer, since Mukuro wasn't the type to give up after one unanswered call. It saved him some trouble, and it gave him room to laugh quietly at the priest's 'excuse'.]
Really? That's not what your fellow priests had to say. You have the day off, Chikusa Kakimoto. Have you always been this shy?
...My having the day off doesn't make me any less busy.
[Still... How frustrating. The demon is the type to do his work and actually look over the only other place he could be. He's not slow enough to miss the possible implication that the demon could be coming to his home next, and he reluctantly gets to his feet.]
Must you call me that? I'm not yours by any stretch.
[He's also distinctly not answering as he makes the move to his room. He's still in his night clothes, after all, so he should at least look presentable when his unwanted guest arrives.]
That resigned sigh was only going to earn more laughter from Mukuro as he neared the floor where the priest was staying. Hey, no one ever said that Mukuro was a good person. Or even a person.]
[It's a really nice feeling. What a shame that he can only do that over the phone and not face to face.]
[Either way, he has to finish changing into clothes fit to be seen by another person- simple jeans and a long sleeved shirt, nothing fancy- and hesitantly goes to his kitchen to start up tea. It doesn't feel right not to, with the habit that has started up between them. Besides, he's not going to let a demon of all things outdo him in hospitality.]
[For a priest, Chikusa Kakimoto was pretty damn rude. It's a good thing that Mukuro found it endearing and hilarious instead of offensive like he should. Well, he would see what the priest had decided to wear soon enough.
He stopped outside of the priest's door, tucking his phone into his pocket, knocking politely.]
[For a second, Chikusa ponders not answering the door. He knows who it is on the other side, after all, and he knows the things he told himself before. He wouldn't rely on a demon for the things he wanted in his life, affection and purpose and feeling valued.]
[But... the tea is already made. And, even with his work, he still doesn't get many visitors.]
[So he answers the door, obviously still more than a little tentative and uncertain of his own actions as he looks over the demon.]
More like I know what I want and how to get it. You should feel flattered, priest.
[Mukuro flashed the priest a smirk as he tried to peer into the apartment, perking up slightly at the smell of tea.]
My, my you shouldn't have. May I come in?
[While he wasn't like a vampire and needed to be invited in, the priest was already on edge enough, if his body language wasn't enough to go on. It was already stalkerish enough to know where the priest had moved without needing to ask anyone else his new address.]
I think you overestimate the value of your attention.
[Still, there's no need for Mukuro to try and be nosy. At the request to come inside, Chikusa indeed steps aside with a nod. A little easier than having to crane his neck a lot.]
[Chikusa's new apartment seems... lighter. The addition of a lot more windows than his prior living space seems to help there, with even a balcony leading out from the living room that's set to the right. It's pleasant enough, with even some attempts at decorating. It's not much at a glance- a rug in cool colors, some simple to care for small plants, a couple of fiction books stacked on the coffee table, the obligatory cross by the television. What may be of particular interest to Mukuro might be the paintings hanging from the wall, one a simple loosely abstract piece that can be recognized as a certain park in the city and the other a more typography piece quoting James 1:19. If he can tell these sort of things, they're both handpainted.]
[To the left is the kitchen, a small but simple space with a row of counters and just enough room for there to be space between them and the small table set there. Another window adds in more light, and the air around the kettle is still hot. Perhaps unsurprisingly, there's yet another cross hanging in here as well, plus a few smaller pictures that have been framed- black and white sketches of birds. A pair of mugs are set to the side, steam rising lazily out from them.]
[Closing the door behind Mukuro once he enters, Chikusa watches him quietly almost as if waiting for a reaction.]
[Mukuro breezed in with a smirk, doing a quiet lap around the apartment to take it all in. It was a lot more lived in than his old apartment, with more flourishes of personality strewn about. He liked the light and the paintings and the small coziness of it. It seemed as if the priest had lightened up quite a bit, and he wondered what other changes had happened these months that Mukuro had been locked away in his host body, trying to learn how to navigate it.
He headed into the kitchen wordlessly, peering at all the small sketches curiously, turning back to look at the priest with a small smile.]
Charming. Did you do all the paintings and sketches yourself? I must admit, I'd been curious to know what you'd been drawing in my absence.
[It shouldn't be so nervewracking to have the demon investigating his living spaces, but the whole time Chikusa is all too aware of his heart's pulse and the way his hairs stand up on the back of his neck. When Mukuro ducks into his kitchen, he follows behind quietly on padded feet.]
[The comment about his art isn't particularly surprising, but he still glances at the pictures on the wall.]
Yes. Painting seemed like the logical step up.
[Although it's been a bit difficult- even the simpler typography piece took ages as he wanted to get it just wait with no mess ups. Going to the counter, he picks up his mug and steps back away to linger in the living area. He doesn't want to get too close and let the demon get ideas.]
[If Mukuro noticed the effect his small inspection had, he was kind enough not to say anything as he sat down, enjoying the smell of the tea for a few moments before taking a sip.]
They're beautiful. Could I commission one from you?
[For all the things he disliked about humanity, he could never find fault with painting. He liked how expressive it was, how evocative. It didn't hurt that most paintings were a good look into the painter's mind. He was deathly curious to know what the priest would paint him, if anything.
The question made him smirk slightly, and he canted his gaze up towards the priest.]
You mean other than my general interest in your affairs? [He let that linger for a few moments before adding:] I was curious if you were still sketching me.
[Promptly, wariness weighs down on Chikusa's shoulders as he looks over the demon.]
...It depends on what you would commission.
[Knowing the demon, the subject matter could be anything. Honestly, he might even throw out suggestions just to see him sputter- Chikusa is well aware of that game. However, just as likely, it could be something utterly mundane, or even a self portrait.]
[...And speak of the devil. Chikusa frowns, jerking his head away to look into the living room.]
There are plenty of things to sketch in the world besides you, you realize.
[Though he would definitely commission terrible and dirty things just because he'd like to imagine the priest's face as he was painting them. That and it just fit his aesthetic. He fit both of his hands around his mug of tea, crossing his ankles idly.]
I'm aware. But you've sketched me before. Are you saying you didn't do so while I was gone?
The more ornamental, the better. It'd be amusing to put over my bed.
[Mukuro gave the priest a probing look at that, mouth curled up slightly at the corners.
Even though the priest was clearly uncomfortable with the current line of conversation, Mukuro wasn't interested in letting it lie. His curiosity mixed with his vanity was a heady thing.]
[Well, that's certainly the fastest response he's ever given.]
[As subtly as he can manage, he shifts himself so the he's standing in the way of getting into the minuscule hallway which leads to the two bedrooms of the apartment. Well, one bedroom and one hobby room which is where most of his art supplies go.]
[The first time the demon went into his dreams, he showed quite the lack of care for personal space. Chikusa isn't expecting him to be much better just because he's a human.]
[That whip quick response was only going to make Mukuro's smirk sharpen, his gaze turning towards the long hallway that the priest was trying to block. It only made him that much more interested to see these sketches, since clearly they had to be sinful and good if the priest was so intent on hiding them from him.]
My, my, did you draw naughty things?
[He stood up, pressing up close against the priest in an effort to get him to shrink back or stand aside. If he didn't want to, well, that just meant he could enjoy the warmth of his skin against his own. He straightened so that his lips could almost brush against the priest's ear.]
Aren't you glad then that I'm here? The real thing is so much better than any sketch.
[The night that they had re-met, Mukuro had come close to him, but it hadn't been anything strange. Merely using him to ward against cold, sleepy and nonthreatening. It had been easy to dismiss.]
[Now, however, the air feels thick with tension, and God help him but he remembers so much as the demon comes up close against him. A familiar warmth, something he had done his best to bury when he had stopped his deal with the demon, curls in his spine as the memories surge.]
[A kitchen, dark, the demon hot, hair fisted in his fingers and their tongues sliding together. Light filtering in through his bedroom window, draping him in shadow as he lay against him, making him spasm with those first tastes of pleasure. Orders, the ache of want, the pressure of fingertips on his jaw-]
[Chikusa tries to stop his shudder as Mukuro leans into him, breath hot against his ear, but can't.]
[The priest's reaction was so instantaneous it was almost hilarious, but all highly satisfying. He had been slightly concerned that the priest might have forgotten all the lessons that Mukuro had so kindly imparted to him all those months ago, but he should have known that the priest would have tried to repress those memories instead of working through them. That suited Mukuro just fine, considering repression only meant as soon as he tore the door keeping those memories at bay off of its hinges, he'd unleash everything bursting to get out.
He smirked against the priest's skin, lowering his lashes, sure that they were close enough the priest could feel them brushing against his skin. For all of his words, the priest still wasn't pushing him away, after all.]
Do you really want me to, Chikusa Kakimoto? Have you behaved yourself all of these cold, lonely months and not even once thought of what we've done together? Found yourself wanting more? [He brushed his mouth lightly against the priest's throat, voice lowering.] ...Touched yourself?
[He didn't have to be a full fledged demon to smell that want coming off of the priest in waves, and as always, he wanted to swallow it off of his skin, to explore every inch of the priest with his mouth and hands, to devour him whole. If only he'd let him.]
[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.]
[It's with no small sense of satisfaction that Mukuro can sense the priest's iron will wavering, can certainly envision what the priest had done left to his own devices. Because ignorance was bliss and the priest no longer had that bliss. Instead, he knew now of pleasure, even if it was a small amount, and like any hunger that the body had sated, it would crave that satisfaction again and again.
He would have laughed, low and triumphant at how the priest's hands were trembling in a tell tale manner, ready to lay on more temptation thick like honey, when all of a sudden hot tea was being splashed onto him.
It was unexpected enough to make Mukuro jump backwards as if he'd been scalded, even though the liquid was more of a warm temperature. Truthfully, it was better than the holy water, but not by much. His expression was shocked, before his mouth twisted in displeasure, sighing.]
I see old habits die hard. I hope you have a spare change of clothes.
[Because without much fanfare, Mukuro was going to start pulling his wet shirt off of him, padding down the hallway towards one of the bedrooms. He was going to take a shower unless the priest physically stopped him.]
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Really? That's not what your fellow priests had to say. You have the day off, Chikusa Kakimoto. Have you always been this shy?
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[Still... How frustrating. The demon is the type to do his work and actually look over the only other place he could be. He's not slow enough to miss the possible implication that the demon could be coming to his home next, and he reluctantly gets to his feet.]
I'm not shy.
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[Mukuro took the stairs up to the priest's apartment, humming as he took the steps one at a time.]
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[He's also distinctly not answering as he makes the move to his room. He's still in his night clothes, after all, so he should at least look presentable when his unwanted guest arrives.]
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[He paused, listening to what sounded like the rustling of clothing on the other line, laughing.]
Are you indecent right now priest? You don't need to change on my account.
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The point remains. I'm not yours.
[And then the laughter... Pausing, he passes a hand over his face and sighs.]
I'm changing. That's all.
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[In one ear and out one other, pretty much.
That resigned sigh was only going to earn more laughter from Mukuro as he neared the floor where the priest was staying. Hey, no one ever said that Mukuro was a good person. Or even a person.]
What were you wearing before?
[It came out as a low, interested purr.]
Or did you slip into something more comfortable?
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[It's a really nice feeling. What a shame that he can only do that over the phone and not face to face.]
[Either way, he has to finish changing into clothes fit to be seen by another person- simple jeans and a long sleeved shirt, nothing fancy- and hesitantly goes to his kitchen to start up tea. It doesn't feel right not to, with the habit that has started up between them. Besides, he's not going to let a demon of all things outdo him in hospitality.]
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He stopped outside of the priest's door, tucking his phone into his pocket, knocking politely.]
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[But... the tea is already made. And, even with his work, he still doesn't get many visitors.]
[So he answers the door, obviously still more than a little tentative and uncertain of his own actions as he looks over the demon.]
...You're very pushy.
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[Mukuro flashed the priest a smirk as he tried to peer into the apartment, perking up slightly at the smell of tea.]
My, my you shouldn't have. May I come in?
[While he wasn't like a vampire and needed to be invited in, the priest was already on edge enough, if his body language wasn't enough to go on. It was already stalkerish enough to know where the priest had moved without needing to ask anyone else his new address.]
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[Still, there's no need for Mukuro to try and be nosy. At the request to come inside, Chikusa indeed steps aside with a nod. A little easier than having to crane his neck a lot.]
[Chikusa's new apartment seems... lighter. The addition of a lot more windows than his prior living space seems to help there, with even a balcony leading out from the living room that's set to the right. It's pleasant enough, with even some attempts at decorating. It's not much at a glance- a rug in cool colors, some simple to care for small plants, a couple of fiction books stacked on the coffee table, the obligatory cross by the television. What may be of particular interest to Mukuro might be the paintings hanging from the wall, one a simple loosely abstract piece that can be recognized as a certain park in the city and the other a more typography piece quoting James 1:19. If he can tell these sort of things, they're both handpainted.]
[To the left is the kitchen, a small but simple space with a row of counters and just enough room for there to be space between them and the small table set there. Another window adds in more light, and the air around the kettle is still hot. Perhaps unsurprisingly, there's yet another cross hanging in here as well, plus a few smaller pictures that have been framed- black and white sketches of birds. A pair of mugs are set to the side, steam rising lazily out from them.]
[Closing the door behind Mukuro once he enters, Chikusa watches him quietly almost as if waiting for a reaction.]
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[Mukuro breezed in with a smirk, doing a quiet lap around the apartment to take it all in. It was a lot more lived in than his old apartment, with more flourishes of personality strewn about. He liked the light and the paintings and the small coziness of it. It seemed as if the priest had lightened up quite a bit, and he wondered what other changes had happened these months that Mukuro had been locked away in his host body, trying to learn how to navigate it.
He headed into the kitchen wordlessly, peering at all the small sketches curiously, turning back to look at the priest with a small smile.]
Charming. Did you do all the paintings and sketches yourself? I must admit, I'd been curious to know what you'd been drawing in my absence.
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[The comment about his art isn't particularly surprising, but he still glances at the pictures on the wall.]
Yes. Painting seemed like the logical step up.
[Although it's been a bit difficult- even the simpler typography piece took ages as he wanted to get it just wait with no mess ups. Going to the counter, he picks up his mug and steps back away to linger in the living area. He doesn't want to get too close and let the demon get ideas.]
Why are you curious?
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They're beautiful. Could I commission one from you?
[For all the things he disliked about humanity, he could never find fault with painting. He liked how expressive it was, how evocative. It didn't hurt that most paintings were a good look into the painter's mind. He was deathly curious to know what the priest would paint him, if anything.
The question made him smirk slightly, and he canted his gaze up towards the priest.]
You mean other than my general interest in your affairs? [He let that linger for a few moments before adding:] I was curious if you were still sketching me.
[Because vanity folks, he had it in spades.]
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...It depends on what you would commission.
[Knowing the demon, the subject matter could be anything. Honestly, he might even throw out suggestions just to see him sputter- Chikusa is well aware of that game. However, just as likely, it could be something utterly mundane, or even a self portrait.]
[...And speak of the devil. Chikusa frowns, jerking his head away to look into the living room.]
There are plenty of things to sketch in the world besides you, you realize.
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[Though he would definitely commission terrible and dirty things just because he'd like to imagine the priest's face as he was painting them. That and it just fit his aesthetic. He fit both of his hands around his mug of tea, crossing his ankles idly.]
I'm aware. But you've sketched me before. Are you saying you didn't do so while I was gone?
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[It's exactly because of thoughts like that which earn words like this, Mukuro, just so you know.]
[His shoulders draw in closer to his body at the continued line of questioning. Always pressing, always vain...]
Perhaps a few times since we first met.
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[Mukuro gave the priest a probing look at that, mouth curled up slightly at the corners.
Even though the priest was clearly uncomfortable with the current line of conversation, Mukuro wasn't interested in letting it lie. His curiosity mixed with his vanity was a heady thing.]
May I see?
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[Well, that's certainly the fastest response he's ever given.]
[As subtly as he can manage, he shifts himself so the he's standing in the way of getting into the minuscule hallway which leads to the two bedrooms of the apartment. Well, one bedroom and one hobby room which is where most of his art supplies go.]
[The first time the demon went into his dreams, he showed quite the lack of care for personal space. Chikusa isn't expecting him to be much better just because he's a human.]
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My, my, did you draw naughty things?
[He stood up, pressing up close against the priest in an effort to get him to shrink back or stand aside. If he didn't want to, well, that just meant he could enjoy the warmth of his skin against his own. He straightened so that his lips could almost brush against the priest's ear.]
Aren't you glad then that I'm here? The real thing is so much better than any sketch.
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[Oh no.]
[It's this again.]
[The night that they had re-met, Mukuro had come close to him, but it hadn't been anything strange. Merely using him to ward against cold, sleepy and nonthreatening. It had been easy to dismiss.]
[Now, however, the air feels thick with tension, and God help him but he remembers so much as the demon comes up close against him. A familiar warmth, something he had done his best to bury when he had stopped his deal with the demon, curls in his spine as the memories surge.]
[A kitchen, dark, the demon hot, hair fisted in his fingers and their tongues sliding together. Light filtering in through his bedroom window, draping him in shadow as he lay against him, making him spasm with those first tastes of pleasure. Orders, the ache of want, the pressure of fingertips on his jaw-]
[Chikusa tries to stop his shudder as Mukuro leans into him, breath hot against his ear, but can't.]
Stop that.
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He smirked against the priest's skin, lowering his lashes, sure that they were close enough the priest could feel them brushing against his skin. For all of his words, the priest still wasn't pushing him away, after all.]
Do you really want me to, Chikusa Kakimoto? Have you behaved yourself all of these cold, lonely months and not even once thought of what we've done together? Found yourself wanting more? [He brushed his mouth lightly against the priest's throat, voice lowering.] ...Touched yourself?
[He didn't have to be a full fledged demon to smell that want coming off of the priest in waves, and as always, he wanted to swallow it off of his skin, to explore every inch of the priest with his mouth and hands, to devour him whole. If only he'd let him.]
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[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.
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He would have laughed, low and triumphant at how the priest's hands were trembling in a tell tale manner, ready to lay on more temptation thick like honey, when all of a sudden hot tea was being splashed onto him.
It was unexpected enough to make Mukuro jump backwards as if he'd been scalded, even though the liquid was more of a warm temperature. Truthfully, it was better than the holy water, but not by much. His expression was shocked, before his mouth twisted in displeasure, sighing.]
I see old habits die hard. I hope you have a spare change of clothes.
[Because without much fanfare, Mukuro was going to start pulling his wet shirt off of him, padding down the hallway towards one of the bedrooms. He was going to take a shower unless the priest physically stopped him.]
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