I'm perfectly capable of behaving, as you've seen, and I'm invaluable at driving out other demons who could harm you or others.
[And it beat watching whatever reality program he had been gearing up to watch. Since it didn't seem like the priest was going to protest, or if he was, it was of little consequence to Mukuro, he slid off of the bed, going to get his shoes.]
If the demon is smart, it'll leave as soon as it sees me.
[More than anything, Mukuro hated to be told what to do, even by his cute little priest. Being told 'no' made him bristle, his eyes flashing, and he was ready to stuff his mortal feet into shoes and stand nose to nose to him to argue. However, the priest said something that made him pause, his hackles lowering slightly.]
'Other things'?
[Sorry did you think that his mind had left the gutter?]
[Rude. But Mukuro would let the priest go without further heckling, instead settling down to take care of business on his end. It was frustrating to be stuck in one place, but he made the best of it, keeping up with his contact and making sure that his information network remained in tact.
Once he was satisfied, he tried to wait up for the priest, even downing a few cups of coffee in order to do so and taking walks around the hotel ( and push a few souls gently into damnation, but only ever so gently ). Finally, his mortal coil's need for sleep won out, and he passed out cocooned in the covers, the television softly playing reruns of some strange old comedy show.]
[It's truly a strange thing, once he steps inside of his car and finds himself completely alone. How disgraceful, that he's adjusted to the demon's presence so quickly that his absence is so keenly noted. It's like the early stages of their relationship again, if it could even be called that- the way he was so much more aware of what lay behind the veil of sleep. The way he sometimes was almost eager for the strange ethereal place that mimicked his apartment, and yet wasn't anything like it at all. Now, he feels nostalgic pangs similar to such times with the passenger's seat besides him empty. Best he can, Chikusa tries to ignore it. Instead, he takes a breath and focuses on the drive ahead.]
[It's a more winding town beyond the freeway that cuts through it, with roads that curve and rise up. The further he goes into more residential districts, the tighter the streets seem to become, and it's a surprise in some ways that he can even park his car near the address on his list that has the dubious honor of being at the very top. Twisting his keys to quiet down the engine, Chikusa stares up at the house past his windshield. It's a house that's clearly seen its fair share of times, he thinks, judging by the make of it and the metal numbers which make out the address on its wooden walls. A fresh paint job can't hide such information. Still, it's no older or newer than any of its neighbors, and there are no signs outwardly that any sort of tragedy or horrors wait within it. That's normal, he's come to find. Sometimes, it's the house which carries the demonic with it, calls to such creatures whether on the will of someone else or simply by coincidence. Other times, well. Other times, most times, it's not so clear. Demons are tricky, and they can find the smallest crack to worm their way into.]
[Chikusa can say he knows that from experience, now.]
[Yet the 'why' and 'how' aren't really important. Those can be cleaned up in the aftermath, and only by the good faith of those who were once possessed, supported by those close to him. All he can do, all he's ever been able to do, is to be wielded as God's weapon and used to cleanse the body of its unholy host. Staring past his windshield at the battleground he is to stride onto today, Chikusa reminds himself of that. It's not him. It's never been him, no matter what the demon he's allowed into his bed might say. Whatever power that might go through him, it's not his. It's that of God's. And if God says that he's no longer worthy, if God gives that answer to all of Chikusa's fervent prayers...]
[Tightening his grip against the steering wheel, Chikusa lets out a slow, shuddering breath. If he's not worthy because of his weakness, today he'll truly know. Now, there's only one way to find out if he'll be brought up to the boat, or left to drown with sharks in the water. God's judgment can be harsh, can be seen as cruel... and he's prepared to face that if he needs to. For now, all he can do is take up his bag in one hand and finally exit his car to approach the front door.]
[In a way, it's almost funny in that way which is not funny at all. No matter what family it is, they all seem to wear the same look, that same fatigue that has worn them down and made them sickly. To deal with someone that has been possessed is never an easy thing. As a priest of the church, as an exorcist, he's expected to face the creature head on and be its first major opponent, and that is a danger all its own.... but it's just as dangerous, in his quiet opinion, to be the ones who have to deal with that quiet danger day after day, sometimes month after month. It's the same concept as water running against stone, wearing it down, causing fractures and eroding stability. Demons, he knows, thrive on that almost as much as they do the more overt suffering that they are so known for. It shows in the tired slump of the shoulders the mother has when she welcomes him at the door, and the heavy bags under bloodshot eyes when the father meets his gaze. If they've argued in all this time, well, Chikusa wouldn't be surprised. While he's no good at reading people, not like the demon haunting him personally, he's seen another parents snap at each other even as they were requesting the aid of the church. Taking a seat down in their living room, where the air seems dark and oppressive even with the lamps on, he patiently listens to them and the tale they give him.]
[Some families have tales of their children experimenting with all sorts of darkness, voodoo they don't actually have an understanding of, ouija boards at a friends house, trapezing through graveyards at night- all the kinds of things that one would see on the cheap horror movies which base themselves on such tales. This family has no such tale, only that one day their son changed so radically as if replaced by a changeling, and things only went worse from there. Honestly, it's also a perfectly common tale in Chikusa's experience. Everyone likes to think that it's only seeking out sin that causes demons to possess people.... but it's not. It's not voodoo, or ouija, or whatever other scapegoat they can think to find. Simply put... it's weakness, and bad luck. Sometimes, that's really all it is. Even as the parents profess to not know what it is that could have possibly put their child at risk for such horrors, whether it's true or not, Chikusa knows that a simple conversation could probably reveal the origin. Whatever weakness has caused the child to turn away from god's light, a demon was only the first to find it before it could be shored up.]
[For a brief, flickering moment... He thinks of his own weakness, and his own quite literal demon. Just as fast, he dismisses such thoughts. They have a time and place.... And now isn't it. Not when he has a duty to fulfill, a job to do, and an answer to await.]
[Meeting the child takes place in a small den separate from the living room, and thus away from any expensive electronics or valuable porcelain that might otherwise get destroyed in some demonic fit. Well, "child" isn't quite right. It's a teenager, which also isn't surprising to Chikusa in any way. Children are innocent enough to wander into demonic ploys all on their own... but teenagers are the ones going through the most change and turmoil, thus leaving them particularly vulnerable. (Adults, he's found, are sometimes just disasters who bring things down on themselves. It probably explains his own predicament quite well.) He's a dull eyed boy, still awkwardly growing in so much places, and there's the usual eerie deepness to the stare which tracks Chikusa's movements so carefully when he steps into the room. It's the first sign of something lurking, waiting to dig its feet into the ground and hold on while screaming profanities all the while. Chikusa knows it won't go any further until he does, however. Most demons, he's found, are actually wary of the law, which almost seems funny to him. If things are kept personal, supernatural instances to scare friends and family, then that's fine, that's what they thrive on... but not many will go too far o get the attention of actual mortal police. He can't be entirely sure why that is; it's not as if he's ever sat down with a demon to ask and get an honest answer. If Chikusa had to ever guess... He supposes his theory would be that it would be too troublesome. There's no good point in trying to start something in jail, where most people are already at low points as it is and there's not really any height to drag them down from. Besides, the times have greatly changed from older days where the church's influence was so powerful. Now, demons can get away with so much because "demonic possession" is treated as fiction instead of fact. Ruining such a good set of circumstances.... That'd just be foolish. And even the most dimwitted demons have enough predator's instinct to know better than to do that.]
[As he goes about blessing the house proper before moving onto the actual exorcism, the parents follow him helplessly with worried glances behind them as if afraid of what their child that is no longer theirs will do. Neither of them even seem to pause for a moment as if considering to stay. Chikusa can't blame them. To be with a creature that dangerous is foolhardy, after all, especially on their own with a chance for all sorts of words allowed to be passed while he's otherwise preoccupied. Cowardice is understandable. Still.... As he says his prayers and blessings, begging God to allow them to sink into the wood of his home, he wonders faintly if that's part of the problem with the boy. Was his weakness that he felt alone, without parents to turn to in his weakest times? Was that how the demon could convince him that not even God would care about him?]
[He thinks about his own childhood and adolescence, desperately finding shelter in God with no one else to turn to.]
[So busy in his prayers, so lost in his own thoughts.... He almost doesn't notice until the end how much lighter the house has become until he's going back down the stairs to meet the boy. It hits him as sharp as opening his eyes to the morning sun, leaving him quietly breathless. All the times before when he's blessed a house which withheld a demon in its walls, there's always been kickback from the creature who felt its stolen territory being reclaimed by God. Strange noises, disgusting smells, sometimes even objects rattling or being moved... Every trick in the book to show its displeasure, or to throw him off his guard. They've never worked on him before... but in this, he thinks, they were barely there at all. It makes him wonder if the demon is actually this weak, or....]
[He doesn't dare let the thought finish in his head. Until he's done, until his duty is either completed or he's been given the most heartbreaking answer, he can't let him entertain such thoughts. He can't let himself get too confident or careless. All he can do, all he needs to do, is put himself in God's hands.]
[No matter what he tells himself, of course, the demon is outraged in the room when he returns to it, and Chikusa finds himself stepping right into an oppressive air so thick that one could drown in it. Even without looking, he can tell how the parents flinch at the threshold behind his back. That's fine. They can stay out there if they want to; he'd even encourage it. It's dangerous work and, while he considers his body expendable in the service of God's will, no one else should be put into the same line of fire. Still stubbornly clinging to the body of the boy, the demon bares its teeth at him and hisses out profanities, taunts, whispers about how he's weak and worthless, powerless...]
[Well. It's not wrong. He is weak and powerless. If he's not deserving of God's love and mercy, of God's strength, then that simple fact will surely show through. Yet it's never been about him. He's nothing... which makes him the perfect vessel through which God can work through, if that is the decision that comes to pass. Feeling himself grow distant from his own body, mind retreating in on itself as he takes holy water in one hand and his bible in the other. Even with how smoothly the blessing of the house went with, he's expecting a difficult hour, at the very least, of determinedly casting the demon out judging by the way it digs its nail into the chair cushions... And no doubt longer, if he's been struck down like he half feels he must deserve from turning away from God's light even a little, and will only have his own weak body to try and do what little he himself can possibly do.]
[That... doesn't happen.]
[Chikusa can't explain it. At least, he can't explain it well. All he knows is that he's half gone from his body, speaking the words as if begging to God, and pressing his fingers, dipped in holy water, to infernally feverish skin... and he doesn't feel like himself. It's not the first time he's ever disassociated from his body, and certainly not while he's been performing an exorcism. Chikusa knows it's not a good habit for himself... but in that moment, it feels good. It feels as though his body isn't his own, as if he's warmer than anything in the best way possible against the feverish heat of the child's forehead, and he feels... he feels...]
[The words escape him. All he knows is that there's no struggle, no fight he has to force his way through and endure with quiet calm. It's over almost.. in the blink of an eye. When he finally comes to, his eyes aching and distantly wet, the boy is slumped in the embrace of his tearful parents, and all heaviness is gone from the room. Glancing at the clock only shows that few minutes have passed... Not even half an hour. Half that, maybe.]
[He feels dazed, strange and fuzzy with that warmth that seems to linger throughout him, and he sort of wants to sink down to the ground marveling at it... but there's no time for that. An exorcist's job isn't done with only the exorcism. Feeling rather like a machine, distant, he sits the family down and gives them the usual spiel about regular prayer and visits to church, advocates open and honest communication between all of them. It's nothing that he's ever come up with on his own, but rather the words that his mentor and other priests have advocate he give every time. He's never minded it before, with it being scripted on his end, because he's always been dreadful at it. Now, he's still thankful for it, just for an entirely different reason. With his mind so detached from the situation, the feeling so overwhelming, he's not sure he would have been able to give a good talk even if he was that kind of person.The family's thanks are so far away from him, he barely takes heed of them. Before he knows it, he's in his car again, driving down the twisting roads back to the main streets again.]
[All the meaning of what's just happened hits him when he's halfway through. His throat becomes suddenly tight, eyes aching, and he immediately pulls over to the side of the road, head bowed against his steering wheel. He doesn't cry, even with the fierce tugging that's behind his eyes and which is so strong that it nearly gives him a headache. Perhaps he's lost all ability to long ago, or in the face of the personal miracle he's seen. All he can do is stay there, curled up in on himself, his throat allowed barely any air and his gratitude twisting his heart. When his lungs find breath again and his tongue remembers words, he whispers his prayers of thanks again and again against the vinyl of his steering wheel. It's all he can offer, besides his entire self, and he's been offering that for almost all is life now.]
[He's not been abandoned. He's not been judged harshly for his weakness, his desire. He's still wanted. Against all odds, he's still wanted.]
[So lost in his own thoughts and emotions, Chikusa barely notices how much the time flies until he looks up with a crick in his neck and the sky is much darker. Feeling clumsy in his own body, he restart his car, and fumbles his way through the streets again until the familiar glow of the motel sign is in view once more. Feeling burned clean of his own feelings, Chikusa steps into his room a dazed man. Infomercials are playing on the television, a quiet drone, and the demon is curled up in the blankets as if he can cocoon himself away from mortal desires and needs. Quietly, Chikua walks over to him, sliding downwards to sit on the edge of the bed by Mukuro. With a delicate gentleness, he reaches over to begin to stroke the tips of his fingers along the sides of Mukuro's face.]
[He's allowed this. God hasn't judged or discarded him for his feelings. He's truly allowed to be there, touching the creature who's affected him so much.]
[Allowing his overactive and varied thoughts slow to a crawl in the form of 'sleep' was, now that he was getting used to it, an interesting experience. He had never thought of himself as tired, exactly, but flaming the fires of hell, dragging mortals into temptation, and fighting for territory with other demons was no easy task. Even someone fueled by rage needed a break, and these short hours of resting were pleasant enough indeed.
Especially when he was woken up by Chikusa Kakimoto touching his face, willingly, without Mukuro have to do anything. He let his eyes open slow, squinting against the light, willing his mind to kickstart back to full capacity instead of the slow sluggishness he had allowed it.]
Priest.
[It was a greeting, and almost a question. Chikusa Kakimoto's expression was an odd one, and it seemed like the exorcism had gone well if he was still sitting before him. Whatever turmoil he had subjecting himself to had finally reached its zenith and in its wake, the priest had made his decision.
Half out of laziness and half as some symbolic gesture of trust, Mukuro lifted the covers slightly, inviting the priest in.]
[It's only the limitations of the human body that have Mukuro look like this for him. Chikusa knows that, with the memories of their encounters before still clear in his mind. As a creature used to something he can never imagine, this is all only because he's unused to exhaustion, and sleep. He knows this. Yet he still feels as though he's managed to take something special from everything that's happened.... As though this is rare, and for himself only.]
[Foolish. But a relief, to not string himself up so tightly, to let go for a little while and let down his guard. To have someone to let his guard down for.]
[His fingers settle against the demon's skin in time with those eyes opening, listening to a simple call of his title, and a sigh whispers out of him. He's still relieved, everything feels foggy, shaky. It's not quite his usual episodes, but it's the only thing he can compare it to. Slowly, he lifts up his other knee onto the bed, pressing himself under the covers... pressing himself closer against the other body there, one knee in between his legs and his other arm going to brace itself against his other side.]
Mukuro...
[It's a soft murmur, his head lowering down closer to his.... before he breaks past any distance to slide his mouth against his.]
[He can relax, for once. He's done good. He's allowed this, now.]
[Now that was unexpected, Mukuro's eyes widening slightly as the priest kissed him of his own will and violation. If he wasn't one hundred percent sure that he would have sensed it otherwise, he was sure the priest had been possessed. He had never willingly initiated anything like this, had to be coaxed and wheedled. Mukuro wanted to know what the reason for this change was, but, he was also not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or rather, stop a usually prudish priest from kissing him.
( He was so generous he wasn't even going to insist the priest address him properly. )
Humming contentedly, he wrapped his arms around the priest's neck, pulling him in closer, rolling his hips against the knee lodged between his legs. He let his tongue dart out against the priest's bottom lip, seeking more.]
[There's something electrifying about feeling Mukuro's arms winding around his neck, a warm and heavy weight locking them together. It's even better than feeling him curve against his body, although that's an unexpected pleasure as well. Just feeling the demon's desire against his knee and up along his thigh... He sighs against his mouth, welcoming him in further even as he starts to adjust himself in the bed.]
[Feeling those hips roll up against him... Has him realizing he wants more than just this.]
[Look, expecting Mukuro to let this pass without talking was an unachievable pipe dream, and they both should know it. Mukuro broke away to press their foreheads together, slightly more awake, eyes searching the priest's face.]
Should I be worried you're possessed my cute little priest?
[Even if it had been a pipe dream, there had still been a sort of faint hope that he would, if only to put that mouth to so much better use. Chikusa's eyelashes flutter as the demon pulls away. How unfair... Although at least it allows him a little more focus as he moves himself, face tucking into the side of Mukuro's throat. At the same time, he presses both knees inbetween his legs, spreading the demon out so that he's inbetween him.]
I'm not possessed. [His lips move against soft skin, traversing upwards to his jaw.] It went perfectly...
[Even though it was more gentle than Mukuro was used to being handled, having the priest nudge his legs apart was shockingly aggressive. He turned to try to catch the look on Chikusa Kakimoto's face, but it seemed like he wasn't in the mood for talking. He shuddered agreeably however, at his mouth against his jaw, and readily he let him part his legs. But it didn't mean that Mukuro was going to keep his hands to himself, letting his hands tug at the priest's clothes, wanting more than these tentative touches.]
And now?
because you do things that haunt me, mimi, and i must purge them from my brain via release
[He should think it's obvious, with the way his hands trail down Mukuro's sides, over his hips. What else could happen now, his fingers digging into soft thighs so that he can raise them upwards a little and allow himself to press down against the demon working on his cassock?]
[The demon did something like this to him, didn't he, once upon a dream? Chikusa feels certain of it. Following the curve of Mukuro's jaw, he lets hot breath wash over his ear, followed by his voice.]
[But it wasn't like Mukuro was going to complain, helping the priest quickly out of his cassock and then shrugging out of his own shirt, shuddering at Chikusa's breath against his ear. He turned his head so that they were facing each other, entangling his hands into the priest's hair to draw him to his mouth.]
Chikusa Kakimoto.
[He murmured it against his lips before kissing him deeply.]
[Is he being forceful? Is this not the kind of action the demon has taken against him in the pass, with those sly hands and shining eyes? Chikusa doesn't have the time nor care to point out his hypocrisy. All of his attention is snared on the way his name sounds on Mukuro's tongue, a rare sound, and he shudders against Mukuro's body even as he's pulled in for a deep kiss.]
[He's gotten better at this, ever since the demon has come into his life, at least he thinks so. He knows how to turn his head to the side, their noses brushing, and how to slide his tongue in past the demon's teeth.]
[More than that, however, he has a better idea of how to multitask. The kiss is perfect, wonderful, freed of all the chains that had constricted him before, and his fingers dig into place so that he can rock right into Mukuro's hips. Once upon a time, it had been the demon grinding down on him. This time, while the demon's legs are splayed out on either side of him... It's quite the reverse.]
are you really complaining about mermaid au in mermay james
[That shudder was enough to jar Mukuro into awakening and a primal want, and greedily, he opened his mouth for the priest, sucking in his tongue. He wanted to feel that shudder coursing through the priest's body over and over again, a physical tremor of pleasure, to hear him gasp and moan his name as they coupled, and to see what else Chikusa Kakimoto had learned and ached for this whole time.
It hadn't escaped his notice that his cute little priest was a better kisser now, after all, and that it seemed like he had learned how to move his hips when Mukuro wasn't looking. He moaned softly as Chikusa rocked into him, biting his lower lip as he drew away.]
Pants.
[It was murmured against the priest's lips as he struggled out of his own, cursing the gangly assortment of limbs on a human body. It was much easier to do this in dreams that he controlled.]
[It won't be that easy. Even as Mukuro reaches down for his waist, the pressure from his thighs disappears, and a pair of hands wrap around his. Still pressed down against Mukuro, Chikusa nudges their foreheads against one another.]
No.
[He wants to show the demon what he's been doing to him all this time as well. Besides, didn't he have a chance to pull Chikusa down into bed and stake some sort of claim? It's his own fault that he'd fallen unconscious like he had. Chikusa grinds down against him again, trying to find the proper way to move, what sort of rhythm he needs to use. This part is still new to him, after all... but he's not afraid, now, of learning how to do it.]
[Of all the words he expected out of his cute little priest's mouth, 'no' was the last on the list. Mukuro's eyes widened with surprise, before flashing with sharp interest. He let the priest keep ahold of his wrists, but he twisted up to bite a line up his neck, laughing slightly.]
Why deny yourself?
[Though it seemed like his priest wanted to take his time, and Mukuro was fine with obliging him. He started to move his hips in time with Chikusa's, and once they slotted together just right, he let out a small moan, hands twitching against the priest's, itching to be released so he could touch.]
[Oh, oh, he'd forgotten about this. How good it feels, his teeth digging into his skin, pain and pleasure sparking down his spine. When's the last time he did this? When their positions had been reversed, the demon settling down onto his lap?]
[It feels so like that time, all the way down to their hips grinding down against one another, and he moans as well into Mukuro's hair. If not for that, maybe he'd laugh, instead, at what the demon says.]
I'm not....
[In fact, he's eager to repeat that movement inbetween them, trying to find that jolt of shared pleasure again.]
[Interesting. For once, Mukuro had enough sense to keep his mouth shut, instead focusing on the delicious friction of their hips grinding together. It didn't mean he wouldn't make any noise, however, a soft moan falling from his lips once they hit they right angle. Helpfully, he wrapped his legs around the priest, hands still flexing with the need to touch him, sharply pulling them closer together and keeping them at that perfect spot. Warmth was starting to coil lazily at the base of his spine, and as if punish the priest for it, he bit harder into his neck.]
[It's like those first kisses all over again- Mukuro's moan, hot and hitting deep, coiling something deep within the pit of Chikusa's stomach. Is the demon reminded of the same? Chikusa can't tell. He can't spare a thought for it for much longer, in fact, not when those teeth dig in and wipe his mind utterly white.]
[Gasping sharp enough to sting his own throat, he jerks his hips again in retaliation, rutting desperately for more of that friction. But it's not only his own pleasure he's seeking. It's a bonus, but it's not what he wants.]
[No, what he wants is to see the demon fall apart to this pleasure too. He wants both of them wrapped in it, tight and impossible to break free from.]
[It was better than anything Mukuro had been expecting out of his cute little priest, but it wasn't enough. He wanted them both bare and writhing against each other, wanted to see every single inch of his priest's skin laid bare before him, wanted to taste all of it. He ground up against him, breathing starting to hitch.]
Chikusa. Clothes off.
[Perhaps his priest would take pity on him if he used his name, since he had seemed to like it so much earlier.]
[That's putting it lightly. Hearing his name come out of Mukuro's mouth like this, strained and hitched, seems to rack his entire body, and Chikusa presses his face further against Mukuro's throat. It's tempting, so tempting, but...]
I said no... I want to hear you come.
[He wants to feel him shake against him, wants to see if he can draw more of those lewd noises from his lips. Perhaps, to really drive it home what he means, he nudges his lips against Mukuro's neck and nips down against the tender flesh there. Turnabout is fair play.]
[God Almighty, his cock jumped to attention at the priest's bold dirty talk, Mukuro turning to try to catch a glimpse of his face. Just what else was his priest hiding from him? With a small whine, but willing to play along for now, Mukuro let his hands slip down to the waist band of Chikusa's pants, fingers dipping into it.]
Harder then, priest.
[It felt good, that little nip, but he wanted more.]
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badliifechoiice22016-01-08 10:36 am
no subject
[And it beat watching whatever reality program he had been gearing up to watch. Since it didn't seem like the priest was going to protest, or if he was, it was of little consequence to Mukuro, he slid off of the bed, going to get his shoes.]
If the demon is smart, it'll leave as soon as it sees me.
no subject
No.
[Shifting a bit, Chikusa actually frowns and bars the door with his own body, even if he's not particularly imposing.]
This... has to be done the proper way. Letting you handle other things.... Maybe you're right and I should let you do that.
....But not this.
[Not this time.]
no subject
'Other things'?
[Sorry did you think that his mind had left the gutter?]
no subject
I'm leaving.
[byeeee]
no subject
Once he was satisfied, he tried to wait up for the priest, even downing a few cups of coffee in order to do so and taking walks around the hotel ( and push a few souls gently into damnation, but only ever so gently ). Finally, his mortal coil's need for sleep won out, and he passed out cocooned in the covers, the television softly playing reruns of some strange old comedy show.]
xoxo
[It's a more winding town beyond the freeway that cuts through it, with roads that curve and rise up. The further he goes into more residential districts, the tighter the streets seem to become, and it's a surprise in some ways that he can even park his car near the address on his list that has the dubious honor of being at the very top. Twisting his keys to quiet down the engine, Chikusa stares up at the house past his windshield. It's a house that's clearly seen its fair share of times, he thinks, judging by the make of it and the metal numbers which make out the address on its wooden walls. A fresh paint job can't hide such information. Still, it's no older or newer than any of its neighbors, and there are no signs outwardly that any sort of tragedy or horrors wait within it. That's normal, he's come to find. Sometimes, it's the house which carries the demonic with it, calls to such creatures whether on the will of someone else or simply by coincidence. Other times, well. Other times, most times, it's not so clear. Demons are tricky, and they can find the smallest crack to worm their way into.]
[Chikusa can say he knows that from experience, now.]
[Yet the 'why' and 'how' aren't really important. Those can be cleaned up in the aftermath, and only by the good faith of those who were once possessed, supported by those close to him. All he can do, all he's ever been able to do, is to be wielded as God's weapon and used to cleanse the body of its unholy host. Staring past his windshield at the battleground he is to stride onto today, Chikusa reminds himself of that. It's not him. It's never been him, no matter what the demon he's allowed into his bed might say. Whatever power that might go through him, it's not his. It's that of God's. And if God says that he's no longer worthy, if God gives that answer to all of Chikusa's fervent prayers...]
[Tightening his grip against the steering wheel, Chikusa lets out a slow, shuddering breath. If he's not worthy because of his weakness, today he'll truly know. Now, there's only one way to find out if he'll be brought up to the boat, or left to drown with sharks in the water. God's judgment can be harsh, can be seen as cruel... and he's prepared to face that if he needs to. For now, all he can do is take up his bag in one hand and finally exit his car to approach the front door.]
[In a way, it's almost funny in that way which is not funny at all. No matter what family it is, they all seem to wear the same look, that same fatigue that has worn them down and made them sickly. To deal with someone that has been possessed is never an easy thing. As a priest of the church, as an exorcist, he's expected to face the creature head on and be its first major opponent, and that is a danger all its own.... but it's just as dangerous, in his quiet opinion, to be the ones who have to deal with that quiet danger day after day, sometimes month after month. It's the same concept as water running against stone, wearing it down, causing fractures and eroding stability. Demons, he knows, thrive on that almost as much as they do the more overt suffering that they are so known for. It shows in the tired slump of the shoulders the mother has when she welcomes him at the door, and the heavy bags under bloodshot eyes when the father meets his gaze. If they've argued in all this time, well, Chikusa wouldn't be surprised. While he's no good at reading people, not like the demon haunting him personally, he's seen another parents snap at each other even as they were requesting the aid of the church. Taking a seat down in their living room, where the air seems dark and oppressive even with the lamps on, he patiently listens to them and the tale they give him.]
[Some families have tales of their children experimenting with all sorts of darkness, voodoo they don't actually have an understanding of, ouija boards at a friends house, trapezing through graveyards at night- all the kinds of things that one would see on the cheap horror movies which base themselves on such tales. This family has no such tale, only that one day their son changed so radically as if replaced by a changeling, and things only went worse from there. Honestly, it's also a perfectly common tale in Chikusa's experience. Everyone likes to think that it's only seeking out sin that causes demons to possess people.... but it's not. It's not voodoo, or ouija, or whatever other scapegoat they can think to find. Simply put... it's weakness, and bad luck. Sometimes, that's really all it is. Even as the parents profess to not know what it is that could have possibly put their child at risk for such horrors, whether it's true or not, Chikusa knows that a simple conversation could probably reveal the origin. Whatever weakness has caused the child to turn away from god's light, a demon was only the first to find it before it could be shored up.]
[For a brief, flickering moment... He thinks of his own weakness, and his own quite literal demon. Just as fast, he dismisses such thoughts. They have a time and place.... And now isn't it. Not when he has a duty to fulfill, a job to do, and an answer to await.]
[Meeting the child takes place in a small den separate from the living room, and thus away from any expensive electronics or valuable porcelain that might otherwise get destroyed in some demonic fit. Well, "child" isn't quite right. It's a teenager, which also isn't surprising to Chikusa in any way. Children are innocent enough to wander into demonic ploys all on their own... but teenagers are the ones going through the most change and turmoil, thus leaving them particularly vulnerable. (Adults, he's found, are sometimes just disasters who bring things down on themselves. It probably explains his own predicament quite well.) He's a dull eyed boy, still awkwardly growing in so much places, and there's the usual eerie deepness to the stare which tracks Chikusa's movements so carefully when he steps into the room. It's the first sign of something lurking, waiting to dig its feet into the ground and hold on while screaming profanities all the while. Chikusa knows it won't go any further until he does, however. Most demons, he's found, are actually wary of the law, which almost seems funny to him. If things are kept personal, supernatural instances to scare friends and family, then that's fine, that's what they thrive on... but not many will go too far o get the attention of actual mortal police. He can't be entirely sure why that is; it's not as if he's ever sat down with a demon to ask and get an honest answer. If Chikusa had to ever guess... He supposes his theory would be that it would be too troublesome. There's no good point in trying to start something in jail, where most people are already at low points as it is and there's not really any height to drag them down from. Besides, the times have greatly changed from older days where the church's influence was so powerful. Now, demons can get away with so much because "demonic possession" is treated as fiction instead of fact. Ruining such a good set of circumstances.... That'd just be foolish. And even the most dimwitted demons have enough predator's instinct to know better than to do that.]
[As he goes about blessing the house proper before moving onto the actual exorcism, the parents follow him helplessly with worried glances behind them as if afraid of what their child that is no longer theirs will do. Neither of them even seem to pause for a moment as if considering to stay. Chikusa can't blame them. To be with a creature that dangerous is foolhardy, after all, especially on their own with a chance for all sorts of words allowed to be passed while he's otherwise preoccupied. Cowardice is understandable. Still.... As he says his prayers and blessings, begging God to allow them to sink into the wood of his home, he wonders faintly if that's part of the problem with the boy. Was his weakness that he felt alone, without parents to turn to in his weakest times? Was that how the demon could convince him that not even God would care about him?]
[He thinks about his own childhood and adolescence, desperately finding shelter in God with no one else to turn to.]
[So busy in his prayers, so lost in his own thoughts.... He almost doesn't notice until the end how much lighter the house has become until he's going back down the stairs to meet the boy. It hits him as sharp as opening his eyes to the morning sun, leaving him quietly breathless. All the times before when he's blessed a house which withheld a demon in its walls, there's always been kickback from the creature who felt its stolen territory being reclaimed by God. Strange noises, disgusting smells, sometimes even objects rattling or being moved... Every trick in the book to show its displeasure, or to throw him off his guard. They've never worked on him before... but in this, he thinks, they were barely there at all. It makes him wonder if the demon is actually this weak, or....]
[He doesn't dare let the thought finish in his head. Until he's done, until his duty is either completed or he's been given the most heartbreaking answer, he can't let him entertain such thoughts. He can't let himself get too confident or careless. All he can do, all he needs to do, is put himself in God's hands.]
[No matter what he tells himself, of course, the demon is outraged in the room when he returns to it, and Chikusa finds himself stepping right into an oppressive air so thick that one could drown in it. Even without looking, he can tell how the parents flinch at the threshold behind his back. That's fine. They can stay out there if they want to; he'd even encourage it. It's dangerous work and, while he considers his body expendable in the service of God's will, no one else should be put into the same line of fire. Still stubbornly clinging to the body of the boy, the demon bares its teeth at him and hisses out profanities, taunts, whispers about how he's weak and worthless, powerless...]
[Well. It's not wrong. He is weak and powerless. If he's not deserving of God's love and mercy, of God's strength, then that simple fact will surely show through. Yet it's never been about him. He's nothing... which makes him the perfect vessel through which God can work through, if that is the decision that comes to pass. Feeling himself grow distant from his own body, mind retreating in on itself as he takes holy water in one hand and his bible in the other. Even with how smoothly the blessing of the house went with, he's expecting a difficult hour, at the very least, of determinedly casting the demon out judging by the way it digs its nail into the chair cushions... And no doubt longer, if he's been struck down like he half feels he must deserve from turning away from God's light even a little, and will only have his own weak body to try and do what little he himself can possibly do.]
[That... doesn't happen.]
[Chikusa can't explain it. At least, he can't explain it well. All he knows is that he's half gone from his body, speaking the words as if begging to God, and pressing his fingers, dipped in holy water, to infernally feverish skin... and he doesn't feel like himself. It's not the first time he's ever disassociated from his body, and certainly not while he's been performing an exorcism. Chikusa knows it's not a good habit for himself... but in that moment, it feels good. It feels as though his body isn't his own, as if he's warmer than anything in the best way possible against the feverish heat of the child's forehead, and he feels... he feels...]
[The words escape him. All he knows is that there's no struggle, no fight he has to force his way through and endure with quiet calm. It's over almost.. in the blink of an eye. When he finally comes to, his eyes aching and distantly wet, the boy is slumped in the embrace of his tearful parents, and all heaviness is gone from the room. Glancing at the clock only shows that few minutes have passed... Not even half an hour. Half that, maybe.]
[He feels dazed, strange and fuzzy with that warmth that seems to linger throughout him, and he sort of wants to sink down to the ground marveling at it... but there's no time for that. An exorcist's job isn't done with only the exorcism. Feeling rather like a machine, distant, he sits the family down and gives them the usual spiel about regular prayer and visits to church, advocates open and honest communication between all of them. It's nothing that he's ever come up with on his own, but rather the words that his mentor and other priests have advocate he give every time. He's never minded it before, with it being scripted on his end, because he's always been dreadful at it. Now, he's still thankful for it, just for an entirely different reason. With his mind so detached from the situation, the feeling so overwhelming, he's not sure he would have been able to give a good talk even if he was that kind of person.The family's thanks are so far away from him, he barely takes heed of them. Before he knows it, he's in his car again, driving down the twisting roads back to the main streets again.]
[All the meaning of what's just happened hits him when he's halfway through. His throat becomes suddenly tight, eyes aching, and he immediately pulls over to the side of the road, head bowed against his steering wheel. He doesn't cry, even with the fierce tugging that's behind his eyes and which is so strong that it nearly gives him a headache. Perhaps he's lost all ability to long ago, or in the face of the personal miracle he's seen. All he can do is stay there, curled up in on himself, his throat allowed barely any air and his gratitude twisting his heart. When his lungs find breath again and his tongue remembers words, he whispers his prayers of thanks again and again against the vinyl of his steering wheel. It's all he can offer, besides his entire self, and he's been offering that for almost all is life now.]
[He's not been abandoned. He's not been judged harshly for his weakness, his desire. He's still wanted. Against all odds, he's still wanted.]
[So lost in his own thoughts and emotions, Chikusa barely notices how much the time flies until he looks up with a crick in his neck and the sky is much darker. Feeling clumsy in his own body, he restart his car, and fumbles his way through the streets again until the familiar glow of the motel sign is in view once more. Feeling burned clean of his own feelings, Chikusa steps into his room a dazed man. Infomercials are playing on the television, a quiet drone, and the demon is curled up in the blankets as if he can cocoon himself away from mortal desires and needs. Quietly, Chikua walks over to him, sliding downwards to sit on the edge of the bed by Mukuro. With a delicate gentleness, he reaches over to begin to stroke the tips of his fingers along the sides of Mukuro's face.]
[He's allowed this. God hasn't judged or discarded him for his feelings. He's truly allowed to be there, touching the creature who's affected him so much.]
k
Especially when he was woken up by Chikusa Kakimoto touching his face, willingly, without Mukuro have to do anything. He let his eyes open slow, squinting against the light, willing his mind to kickstart back to full capacity instead of the slow sluggishness he had allowed it.]
Priest.
[It was a greeting, and almost a question. Chikusa Kakimoto's expression was an odd one, and it seemed like the exorcism had gone well if he was still sitting before him. Whatever turmoil he had subjecting himself to had finally reached its zenith and in its wake, the priest had made his decision.
Half out of laziness and half as some symbolic gesture of trust, Mukuro lifted the covers slightly, inviting the priest in.]
why do you spurn my love like this, mimi
[Foolish. But a relief, to not string himself up so tightly, to let go for a little while and let down his guard. To have someone to let his guard down for.]
[His fingers settle against the demon's skin in time with those eyes opening, listening to a simple call of his title, and a sigh whispers out of him. He's still relieved, everything feels foggy, shaky. It's not quite his usual episodes, but it's the only thing he can compare it to. Slowly, he lifts up his other knee onto the bed, pressing himself under the covers... pressing himself closer against the other body there, one knee in between his legs and his other arm going to brace itself against his other side.]
Mukuro...
[It's a soft murmur, his head lowering down closer to his.... before he breaks past any distance to slide his mouth against his.]
[He can relax, for once. He's done good. He's allowed this, now.]
because this isn't love it's bullying
( He was so generous he wasn't even going to insist the priest address him properly. )
Humming contentedly, he wrapped his arms around the priest's neck, pulling him in closer, rolling his hips against the knee lodged between his legs. He let his tongue dart out against the priest's bottom lip, seeking more.]
but i give you so much attention!!
[Feeling those hips roll up against him... Has him realizing he wants more than just this.]
is this a good thing
[Look, expecting Mukuro to let this pass without talking was an unachievable pipe dream, and they both should know it. Mukuro broke away to press their foreheads together, slightly more awake, eyes searching the priest's face.]
Should I be worried you're possessed my cute little priest?
don't you appreciate the things i make for you
I'm not possessed. [His lips move against soft skin, traversing upwards to his jaw.] It went perfectly...
[There's nothing for him to worry about anymore.]
ig but lbr they're for you too
And now?
because you do things that haunt me, mimi, and i must purge them from my brain via release
[He should think it's obvious, with the way his hands trail down Mukuro's sides, over his hips. What else could happen now, his fingers digging into soft thighs so that he can raise them upwards a little and allow himself to press down against the demon working on his cassock?]
[The demon did something like this to him, didn't he, once upon a dream? Chikusa feels certain of it. Following the curve of Mukuro's jaw, he lets hot breath wash over his ear, followed by his voice.]
Say my name.
[Not 'priest'.]
i don't know what you're talking about
[But it wasn't like Mukuro was going to complain, helping the priest quickly out of his cassock and then shrugging out of his own shirt, shuddering at Chikusa's breath against his ear. He turned his head so that they were facing each other, entangling his hands into the priest's hair to draw him to his mouth.]
Chikusa Kakimoto.
[He murmured it against his lips before kissing him deeply.]
mermaid au mimi!!!!!
[He's gotten better at this, ever since the demon has come into his life, at least he thinks so. He knows how to turn his head to the side, their noses brushing, and how to slide his tongue in past the demon's teeth.]
[More than that, however, he has a better idea of how to multitask. The kiss is perfect, wonderful, freed of all the chains that had constricted him before, and his fingers dig into place so that he can rock right into Mukuro's hips. Once upon a time, it had been the demon grinding down on him. This time, while the demon's legs are splayed out on either side of him... It's quite the reverse.]
are you really complaining about mermaid au in mermay james
It hadn't escaped his notice that his cute little priest was a better kisser now, after all, and that it seemed like he had learned how to move his hips when Mukuro wasn't looking. He moaned softly as Chikusa rocked into him, biting his lower lip as he drew away.]
Pants.
[It was murmured against the priest's lips as he struggled out of his own, cursing the gangly assortment of limbs on a human body. It was much easier to do this in dreams that he controlled.]
weh
No.
[He wants to show the demon what he's been doing to him all this time as well. Besides, didn't he have a chance to pull Chikusa down into bed and stake some sort of claim? It's his own fault that he'd fallen unconscious like he had. Chikusa grinds down against him again, trying to find the proper way to move, what sort of rhythm he needs to use. This part is still new to him, after all... but he's not afraid, now, of learning how to do it.]
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Why deny yourself?
[Though it seemed like his priest wanted to take his time, and Mukuro was fine with obliging him. He started to move his hips in time with Chikusa's, and once they slotted together just right, he let out a small moan, hands twitching against the priest's, itching to be released so he could touch.]
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[It feels so like that time, all the way down to their hips grinding down against one another, and he moans as well into Mukuro's hair. If not for that, maybe he'd laugh, instead, at what the demon says.]
I'm not....
[In fact, he's eager to repeat that movement inbetween them, trying to find that jolt of shared pleasure again.]
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[Gasping sharp enough to sting his own throat, he jerks his hips again in retaliation, rutting desperately for more of that friction. But it's not only his own pleasure he's seeking. It's a bonus, but it's not what he wants.]
[No, what he wants is to see the demon fall apart to this pleasure too. He wants both of them wrapped in it, tight and impossible to break free from.]
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Chikusa. Clothes off.
[Perhaps his priest would take pity on him if he used his name, since he had seemed to like it so much earlier.]
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I said no... I want to hear you come.
[He wants to feel him shake against him, wants to see if he can draw more of those lewd noises from his lips. Perhaps, to really drive it home what he means, he nudges his lips against Mukuro's neck and nips down against the tender flesh there. Turnabout is fair play.]
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Harder then, priest.
[It felt good, that little nip, but he wanted more.]
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