-

-

-

She becomes a blur of amber, blue, and black in the center of many pastel colors. Her little blue heels click the linoleum of the ballroom floor. Her little pale back molds to fit my chest and torso underneath the blankets. In the privacy of the bedroom, her untied hair is matted between my fingers— a silky amber mess smelling faintly of orange blossoms and even fainter of Shiki's musk.

The smell arouses me. Rima complains sleepily about the pressure of me and I pull myself closer laughing, tightening my arms around her thin waist. My laugh is echoed by our auburn-haired lover moving his relaxed face from the front of her shoulder to blow air into her ear canal.

She does not jerk away from Shiki but gives a hard warning kick with her foot to one of his legs wrapped in mine and my smile deepens.

I love them both.

I ache for their familiarity, their company, their pale bloodless skin, the dynamic contrast of their physical bodies;

he clings to the notion of a forever-comfort; she is hot tempered to personal matters;

he hates his body; she relishes hers;

he will beg for a taste of my blood; she has never asked;

in our ménage a trois he requires foreplay, a stroke, a kiss along his smooth jaw line, Rima's tongue pressing lightly behind his ear; she requires even more where her inner walls slicken and pulsate against exploring fingertips, like a living entity, swollen with need and she responds by yanking none-too-kindly at my yellow hair;

(we need to feed before consummation or our vampiric bodies do not feel the heightened senses of pleasure).

As satisfying as desires are, I prefer to lie in the haze of afterglow with Shiki's limp hand tangled in mine, nipping his fingertips purposely, running them delicately over my fangs, and watching lazily as the middle occupant to our nest of flesh places a tender kiss to her exposed collarbone.

Her sapphire blue eyes meet mine, content. Another pair of blue eyes, icier and wider set, glance at me automatically.

I question sometimes if they enjoy sharing, settling themselves into our funny undisclosed relationship, if this was an arrangement they truly wanted— and I am not allowed another second to think on it as my dear auburn vampire leans over my bare chest, carefully touching his closed mouth to my lips. It is not to implicate a sexual sensation but merely forming security between us

—his father abused and terrorized his family for many years; his mother sadly will not regain most of her sanity; Shiki could not trust most vampires, not even us.

I show that I understand him, that I long him as much as he does for me, and that I would not betray him or manipulate him, by returning the kiss with a series of softer separate kisses; Shiki gulps back an obvious moan as a fist balls up my sheets.

My amber vampire traces her slender hands across the planes of his back absently as Shiki is distracted, the smaller muscles in her arms tensing and easing rhythmically, her long dark eyelashes fluttering shut. I feel her power, electricity like a low hum

—her father provided her powers; her mother had been assassinated by a rogue vampire hunter; Rima kept the opinion to herself that humans were untrustworthy creatures and played the role of an unfeeling porcelain doll skillfully.

When Shiki falls away from me, she begins to slip into her night clothes; the light chartreuse material sculpts to her curves, to the peaks of her breasts as it is meant to. Shiki silently copies her after a moment, tugging on a pair of dark green pajama pants over his nude body. They stare at me expectantly until I find my robe

—my grandfather raised me; I kept my mother's favorite katana hung over the headboard; I wanted to trust the humans and my own kind when I promised Kaname that I would help the other children of noble vampires to appreciate the Headmaster's idea of co-existing; I still hope that we can be successful.

They sense a change unwelcome; Shiki shifts positions to curl against my back, holding his hands possessively over my stomach; Rima curls to my chest, clutching her arms to herself and tucking the top of her head underneath the space of my chin.

They are solid; they are real; their presence lulls me to a safe dark sleep.

-

-

-

END.


VK is owned by its respected people. This is my attempt at playing with form and language again. And I totally blame/thank the only unbiased Rima/Shiki/Ichijou video on Youtube for helping inspire my crack. I have to say this now first—threesomes involve everyone in the party—there is no 'one person being neglected because someone doesn't find them romantically or sexually appealing'. That's not a true threesome. This little piece also addresses the growing conflicts between Shiki/Ichijo and Shiki/Rima shippers…just let them all screw each other. xDD Not a bad solution to me. And finally, for some reason out of nowhere, I have turned into a mild fan of Rima/Ichijo. And the thought is adorable. My rant is done; let's hear what the readers think. You can rant in your review but I prefer that it accompanies a helpful comment to do with the story. Much appreciated lovelies!