[There was a sense of satisfaction at even the smallest signs of dishevelment made Mukuro's lips curve upwards, somewhere between cruel and foreboding. He would get sounds out of Chikusa soon enough, but there was no point in getting those noises out of him so soon. He liked taking his time in breaking Chikusa down, to the point where that mask of apathy shattered into a thousand pieces, where his body couldn't handle the amount of pleasure it was being given, to where his voice was loud and continuous.
But Mukuro was patient, and normally the anticipation was just as erotic as the act itself.
He watched with appreciation as Chikusa turned around, eyes sharpening as he caught sight of those scars, at how the dress flowed around his legs. He let out a small hum of appreciation, eyes dragging back to Chikusa's face. He held out a hand, gesturing for Chikusa to move closer.]
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But Mukuro was patient, and normally the anticipation was just as erotic as the act itself.
He watched with appreciation as Chikusa turned around, eyes sharpening as he caught sight of those scars, at how the dress flowed around his legs. He let out a small hum of appreciation, eyes dragging back to Chikusa's face. He held out a hand, gesturing for Chikusa to move closer.]