"Please, call me Nate." He didn't know why he invited her to be so familiar, or for that matter why he let her gaze guide him to look slowly over her body, coming to focus on those curves, those breasts, and finally to those eyes once more.<br/><br/>To him, the pause seemed like an eternity, but it was only a few seconds. Sparing her, though he increasingly became unsure whether his decision was truly his own, his Church's, or the succubus's, the indignation or horror that would normally become a priest, he replied gently, tenderly even: "The Gospel is to me not a literal truth, but a higher one... one that teaches a world created in--" here he paused again, looking to her as if for inspiration "--in love and beauty, even and especially through pain and fear." He could feel but not stop his mind's bending, his theology slowly but surely conforming to the ways of the demoness and the carnival.