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.]
[The demon leaps back, and Chikusa can breathe again. Whatever vice the creature's very presence puts around his lungs vanishes. Thank God. It's no doubt a short reprieve- holy water didn't stop the demon's flirtations, he doubts tea will.]
[Still. He takes what he can get.]
I told you- [There's a faint dusting of pink by his ears as Mukuro starts to strip, but Chikusa ignores it as he goes for the paper towels.] -and door on your right has my shower.
[It also has Chikusa's actualbedroom instead of the art room he's clearly trying to keep Mukuro from, but he's hoping that the demon is too annoyed with his current state to be investigative. Unlike the rest of the apartment, Chikusa's bedroom seems to be the most similar to his previous one. Still quietly colored, still plainly decorated, and even a bit smaller. There's no room for a desk here, although the space by the windows has been put to use. Still the same sort of books as before, although Mukuro might spot a few things on Germany and even a guide to learning the language. The hat collection has grown, too.]
[The bathroom is a bit further inside, in a door straight ahead and to the right upon entering. It's actually quite nice, large and clean with a small glass paned shower set exactly alongside a tub. The hygiene products seem to be mostly the same... Save for a small trio of bottles along the rim of the tub that may or may not have come from a fancy bath place.]
[Listen. He got a nice bath. You use nice things when you can actually relax in a bath instead of showers.]
[It sounded more mockingly sing-songy than annoyed, and Mukuro made his way into the bedroom, peering around curiously. He picked up a few books as if to find the sketchpads the priest was so eager to hide, but once it became apparent they weren't there, he headed into the bathroom, amused at the sight.]
Is all your floor space here?
[Not that he was going to complain, sitting down at the edge of the tub to get a bath drawing, undoing his belt and then gently shucking off his boots.]
Are you going to join me, priest?
[He was going to call out loud enough for Chikusa Kakimoto to hear him, idly holding his hand out to feel the temperature of the water and adjust it accordingly.]
[No answer on the first one, partially because the answer is 'yes' and partially because Chikusa is finishing up the cleaning. He's halfway down the hall when that next question comes, and scarlet blotches liven up his skin again.]
Don't make a mess while you're in there.
[It's his only response as he goes through his drawers before leaving out a simple button up and slacks out on his bed. With his height difference on Mukuro even in that body, it should fit him well enough. Nothing really fashionable but then, he's a priest. What does anyone expect?]
There's a spare change of clothes here. Put them on before you leave the room.
[And with that, he's going to grab one of his German books and hurry back to the living room before Mukuro can drag him into some sort of bath tub sin orgy.]
My dear priest, the whole point of this is to clean up the mess you made.
[Still, he won't press his luck for now since he'd rather come back to drink tea instead of being doused in it, slipping out of the rest of his clothes. He spent a good half hour in the tub, humming old ditties to himself as he used the expensive stuff to get clean ( because if Chikusa Kakimoto had been so willing to defile him, he should also be willing to make sure he was properly cleansed ). He washed out his clothes as best he could, leaving them hanging over the rim of the tub to dry.
Once he was thoroughly finished, he got out and dried himself off. While it was tempting to go out stark naked, wearing the priest's clothing was also an amusing prospect. He put the clothes on with a small, sad sigh, rolling up the pant legs and the sleeves of the shirt, leaving his hair loose to help facilitate it drying.
He headed into the living room, sighing dramatically.]
Is that any way to treat a guest? You should make it up to me by showing me your sketches.
[Never before in his life has he had to experience such a long half hour, that humming seeming to echo out from the bathroom and tease the very edges of his hearing. It keeps distracting him from the words he's trying to focus on and he notices all too soon when it stops.]
[At least it means he's prepared when Mukuro walks back out, a strange feeling twisting in his gut when he actually see the demon wearing his clothes.]
...And a guest should know better than to harass their host. You're quite obsessed with the sketches, aren't you?
It's tangible evidence that you thought of me and missed me during our time apart. Not to mention all your efforts to keep them hidden makes me wonder about their nature, priest.
[He padded over to the couch, sitting an acceptable distance away from the priest, peering at the book he'd been reading curiously.]
[Yet his voice breaks on that last word, fragile as cardboard, and Chikusa knows he doesn't come off as firm as he wants. Forcing his gaze downwards again at the words that don't make any sense now even in English, he wets his lips.]
...No. I still need plenty of time before I'm even passable with the language.
[Mukuro canted his head to the side, smirking knowingly at the priest. He wasn't fooled for a second Chikusa Kakimoto, and even if the sketches were chaste, he had no doubt that the thought behind them were not.
He hummed thoughtfully at that admission, leaning back against the sofa, getting comfortable.]
Should we go together? I would take you if you promised to wear ever hat in your collection while we were there.
[Don't think he hadn't noticed all those new hats, priest.]
....You'd let it go to your head worse than usual.
[Crossing his legs, he shifts away from Mukuro and does an admirable job of not letting it show how really embarrassed he is at admitting even that. It'd be insufferable, how the demon would act, and he doesn't want to deal with that more than he has to already.]
[The offer has him glance back, wary.]
The hats again...
[Quiet so far on going to another country with him.]
You should know just how potent the imagination is, priest. Is it better for me to guess at what you drew instead of showing me? I can be rather creative.
[He let the last bit come out as a suggestive purr, fiddling idly with the overly long sleeves, rolling them up until they were up to his elbows. While it was true Mukuro's ego could always get worse, he wasn't going to give up until he got what he wanted. Even if it meant inviting himself in more often and finding his way into the other room where he assumed the sketchbooks were.
It was somewhat surprising when the priest seemed more willing to go to another country with him than show him his sketchbook, but Mukuro would let that lie for now and allow the idea to take root and grow. He shot the priest a bemused look, expression almost soft.]
The fuzzy hat is still my favorite, but there are some other interesting ones you've collected. Do you wear them often?
[...Oh. Hilariously enough- at least for anyone who wasn't Chikusa- the very idea of what Mukukro might be imagining has him freeze. That hadn't occurred to him before, but it's the kind of thing a demon might do, isn't it? To just sit there, purring in that delectable- deplorable voice of his all the things Chikusa most certainly didn't draw. He'd even have fun with it.]
[Horrifying.]
...Please don't.
[Really. Please.]
[The next subject is still a bit weird to him, like so many of the things Mukuro fixates on, but Chikusa lets himself be led down it in preference to talking about the sketchbook.]
It's still mostly warm... But a few times. When it's been cold enough.
[He's not sure how he feels about the demon being around for the season where wearing warm hats is going to be more and more common.]
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badliifechoiice22016-01-08 10:36 am
no subject
[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.]
no subject
[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.
no subject
[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?
no subject
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.]
no subject
...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.
no subject
[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?
no subject
[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?
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
[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.
no subject
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.]
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
[Still. He takes what he can get.]
I told you- [There's a faint dusting of pink by his ears as Mukuro starts to strip, but Chikusa ignores it as he goes for the paper towels.] -and door on your right has my shower.
[It also has Chikusa's actual bedroom instead of the art room he's clearly trying to keep Mukuro from, but he's hoping that the demon is too annoyed with his current state to be investigative. Unlike the rest of the apartment, Chikusa's bedroom seems to be the most similar to his previous one. Still quietly colored, still plainly decorated, and even a bit smaller. There's no room for a desk here, although the space by the windows has been put to use. Still the same sort of books as before, although Mukuro might spot a few things on Germany and even a guide to learning the language. The hat collection has grown, too.]
[The bathroom is a bit further inside, in a door straight ahead and to the right upon entering. It's actually quite nice, large and clean with a small glass paned shower set exactly alongside a tub. The hygiene products seem to be mostly the same... Save for a small trio of bottles along the rim of the tub that may or may not have come from a fancy bath place.]
[Listen. He got a nice bath. You use nice things when you can actually relax in a bath instead of showers.]
no subject
[It sounded more mockingly sing-songy than annoyed, and Mukuro made his way into the bedroom, peering around curiously. He picked up a few books as if to find the sketchpads the priest was so eager to hide, but once it became apparent they weren't there, he headed into the bathroom, amused at the sight.]
Is all your floor space here?
[Not that he was going to complain, sitting down at the edge of the tub to get a bath drawing, undoing his belt and then gently shucking off his boots.]
Are you going to join me, priest?
[He was going to call out loud enough for Chikusa Kakimoto to hear him, idly holding his hand out to feel the temperature of the water and adjust it accordingly.]
no subject
Don't make a mess while you're in there.
[It's his only response as he goes through his drawers before leaving out a simple button up and slacks out on his bed. With his height difference on Mukuro even in that body, it should fit him well enough. Nothing really fashionable but then, he's a priest. What does anyone expect?]
There's a spare change of clothes here. Put them on before you leave the room.
[And with that, he's going to grab one of his German books and hurry back to the living room before Mukuro can drag him into some sort of bath tub sin orgy.]
no subject
[Still, he won't press his luck for now since he'd rather come back to drink tea instead of being doused in it, slipping out of the rest of his clothes. He spent a good half hour in the tub, humming old ditties to himself as he used the expensive stuff to get clean ( because if Chikusa Kakimoto had been so willing to defile him, he should also be willing to make sure he was properly cleansed ). He washed out his clothes as best he could, leaving them hanging over the rim of the tub to dry.
Once he was thoroughly finished, he got out and dried himself off. While it was tempting to go out stark naked, wearing the priest's clothing was also an amusing prospect. He put the clothes on with a small, sad sigh, rolling up the pant legs and the sleeves of the shirt, leaving his hair loose to help facilitate it drying.
He headed into the living room, sighing dramatically.]
Is that any way to treat a guest? You should make it up to me by showing me your sketches.
no subject
[At least it means he's prepared when Mukuro walks back out, a strange feeling twisting in his gut when he actually see the demon wearing his clothes.]
...And a guest should know better than to harass their host. You're quite obsessed with the sketches, aren't you?
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[He padded over to the couch, sitting an acceptable distance away from the priest, peering at the book he'd been reading curiously.]
Are you planning on going soon?
no subject
[Yet his voice breaks on that last word, fragile as cardboard, and Chikusa knows he doesn't come off as firm as he wants. Forcing his gaze downwards again at the words that don't make any sense now even in English, he wets his lips.]
...No. I still need plenty of time before I'm even passable with the language.
no subject
[Mukuro canted his head to the side, smirking knowingly at the priest. He wasn't fooled for a second Chikusa Kakimoto, and even if the sketches were chaste, he had no doubt that the thought behind them were not.
He hummed thoughtfully at that admission, leaning back against the sofa, getting comfortable.]
Should we go together? I would take you if you promised to wear ever hat in your collection while we were there.
[Don't think he hadn't noticed all those new hats, priest.]
no subject
[Crossing his legs, he shifts away from Mukuro and does an admirable job of not letting it show how really embarrassed he is at admitting even that. It'd be insufferable, how the demon would act, and he doesn't want to deal with that more than he has to already.]
[The offer has him glance back, wary.]
The hats again...
[Quiet so far on going to another country with him.]
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[He let the last bit come out as a suggestive purr, fiddling idly with the overly long sleeves, rolling them up until they were up to his elbows. While it was true Mukuro's ego could always get worse, he wasn't going to give up until he got what he wanted. Even if it meant inviting himself in more often and finding his way into the other room where he assumed the sketchbooks were.
It was somewhat surprising when the priest seemed more willing to go to another country with him than show him his sketchbook, but Mukuro would let that lie for now and allow the idea to take root and grow. He shot the priest a bemused look, expression almost soft.]
The fuzzy hat is still my favorite, but there are some other interesting ones you've collected. Do you wear them often?
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[Horrifying.]
...Please don't.
[Really. Please.]
[The next subject is still a bit weird to him, like so many of the things Mukuro fixates on, but Chikusa lets himself be led down it in preference to talking about the sketchbook.]
It's still mostly warm... But a few times. When it's been cold enough.
[He's not sure how he feels about the demon being around for the season where wearing warm hats is going to be more and more common.]
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