A/N: I haven't written anything Riffgenta-ish for a while, so here's a little snippet I drabbled last night. I want to use the occasion to thank everyone who has reviewed on my previous stories, you guys, this really means a lot. And I promise that another chapter of Unexpected Visitor will come soon - I'm swarmed with work right now and I barely have any time to write. So bear with me.

This little snippet came in my head while I was listening to "Until" by Sting.

Disclaimer: Unless some kind of dire change happened to the time-space continuum, Richard O'Brien still owns everything RHPS related. And it's a very good thing he does, too.

Here in your arms, where the world is impossibly still,
With a million dreams to fulfill,
And a matter of moments until the dancing ends.
Here in your arms, where everything seems to be clear,
Not a solitary thing would I fear
Except when this moment comes near the dancing's end
~Sting - 'Until'

When the sounds pouring from Riff's room reach Magenta's ears, she thinks she's just hearing things. As she gets closer to the door and presses her head to the wood, she's certain she's not imagining things. The domestic gently opens the door, careful not to get noticed.

It's dark in her brother's room. He hasn't lit a single candle, his tall and slender figure is illuminated by the moonlight. The fake hunchback Frank makes him wear is gone, he's gazing through the window. An old record player is softly heard from the corner of the room. Magenta has no idea where Riff found the thing, nor where he got the vinyl from. The music is soothing and slow and the same song is going on repeat. But that's not what astonishes her; she has known that her brother has always loved music.

No, what amazes her to no end is that Riff is actually singing along.

She hasn't heard his voice ever since they've arrived on his planet and she deeply regrets it. Her brother has a soft baritone, which can take the high pitched notes with no problem, but makes the low ones sound velvety and smooth. It reminds her of rain, of nights on the beaches and the cold sand beneath their feet. He would sing to her then; wonderful tunes of young lovers and hot touches, warm breaths on her neck, his tongue seductively licking her earlobe.

Magenta doesn't know how, but he notices her presence, his voice hitches and he turns around to see who it is that has invaded his privacy. A small smile relieves his features and his shoulders relax when he sees it's his sister.

"Why are you up so late, Magenta?" he asks with mere curiosity. They've both had a tiring day, Magenta herself thought she'd just face-plant in her bed and pass out until morning. But something has kept her awake. She needed warmth. And what better place to find that warmth than her brother's embrace?

She approaches him and Riff opens his arms welcomingly. She comes closer, her hands fiddling with his shirt, her head slowly falls against his shoulder. The music is still playing in the background and Magenta finds that the song isn't really that good. Not without Riff's melodic voice.

"I couldn't sleep," she replies. "What about you?"

He sighs, his fingers meddling with her hair. "Me neither."

Magenta looks at his face, barely recognizable in the dusky moonlight. Without the hunchback he's taller than her, so she has to plop herself up to kiss him, hungrily invading his mouth. Riff's hands move to her waist and absent-mindedly caress the small of her back. Her hands aren't so far behind – she has sneaked into his open shirt, exploring his body with her palms.

Until suddenly, her fingers find what seems to be a bleeding wound.

Riff hisses at the touch and breaks the kiss to take in a sharp breath. It has taken him by surprise and Magenta hurries to get her hands away from the spot, green eyes glued to her brother's sapphire pools of blue.

"Riff, what –"

"Hush, now," he says, pulling her closer. "it's nothing."

"It's not nothing," Magenta buries her head in his neck. "Did he whip you again?"

Riff stays silent.

"He did, didn't he?"

"The master just … loses his temper more often than others."

"How can you still defend him? After all he did to you last time?"

That last time she's referring to was when Frank had gotten nearly insane and had taken it all out on Riff. The siblings never knew the reason. The master had screeched for Riff to come immediately. Magenta wanted to follow him, perfectly knowing what Frank was capable of when he was in a bad mood. Her brother stopped her from doing something stupid, her hands on her shoulders and the don't put yourself at risk look in his eyes. Magenta let go of his hand in tears, feeling as if she was sending him on his execution.

She was nearly right and just the thought of it makes her sick.

She stayed downstairs, hearing Frank's incoherent screams and a few short cries of pain here and there. Then the master had called for her and she went up to the lab, knees shaking.

Riff was on the floor in a puddle of blood, gashes from the whip covering even his face. Without thinking, she fell to her knees to him and Frank told her to take him away and locked himself in his room. She had to carry his nearly lifeless body and try to make him feel at least slightly better.

Magenta shivers as she remembers the events of that night. Not to mention the copious amounts of alcohol both of them consumed – her to try and calm herself down and he to relieve the pain in a way.

Riff seemingly notices she's scared and embraces her tightly, lips attached to her forehead.

"It's not nearly as bad as last time," he assures her.

"I don't care," Magenta says and feels a tear trickling down her cheek. She angrily wipes it away. "I just don't want him to hit you anymore."

"Let's not think about this now, my most beautiful sister," he says, taking her hands in his. "Soon we will have our vengeance. Soon that spoiled brat of a prince will be put in his place." Fury flashes slightly in his eyes, but Magenta knows it's not directed at her. "Be patient."

A smile appears on her ruby lips.

The song starts over again.

Without another word, Riff starts singing along to the record, louder this time, his voice filling the room. One hand is on Magenta's waist, the other one in his own. He leads her into an improvised tango with well-measured steps and handles her carefully like a porcelain doll. Her brother has always been a great dancer. It's not a talent everyone knows about.

Magenta follows his lead, careful to avoid the wounds on his torso.

He's still singing but she interrupts him with a kiss. Riff stops dancing, cupping her head in his hands, deepening the embrace. Magenta clings to him desperately, she wants to melt into him, to be his as she always is, because it's what defines her, what makes her whole. They're like a clockwork, a ticking mechanism. If one of them stops working, the other one won't be able to function as well. Riff's voice reaches her again, this time it's a moan in her ear, the hot breath caressing her gentle skin.

When he collapses over her on the bed and his lips are suddenly warm and soft on her body, she kind of stops noticing the music in the background.