Work Text:
"A chopstick, Fukumura? Really?"
A hint of a smile touched thin lips as Sayashi Riho flexed her wrist, snapping the slender stick in a twist. The jagged half she brought in front of her face, half shadowed in moonlight from the open windows.
A quiet titter from the lurker in the shadows, and a sensuous figure sauntered into the line of light, towering over the slighter figure of the white clad girl by the window. Leaning in close, she hovered near the ear of the shorter girl, her smile touching the shell of Riho's ear as she blew lightly into it.
"Always so serious, Riho-chan."
Midnight hair fluttered in the shell-white of lunar light. The two girls were close, intimately so, even. One pale hand rose, still clutching the broken half of chopstick, and with a casual seeming move, twirled a handful of ebony hair into a simple twist, sliding the broken implement in like a mockery of a hairpin.
"If only you could be so decisive about those pesky hunters when they come after us too..."
There was a whimsical note to those words, barely concealing the hidden edge. Riho catches the equally pale wrist of the girl who was still holding her, stopping the jagged edge of chopstick a bare centimeter away from piercing her neck.
"Enough, Mizuki. Stop playing."
Firm words, but her tone was bored. As if she had seen this all before...which she had.
"But I'm always serious, Riho-chan."
The smaller girl turned in the half embrace, locking gazes with the taller girl. Wills clashed in the staredown, before Mizuki shuddered almost visibly, her arm falling slack in Riho's still iron grip. Her fuller lips fell open to reveal a hint of sharpened canine -- unnaturally so, gleaming by moonlight. A hand clasped her chin gently though firmly, one thumb tracing the outline of those slightly parted lips, teasing them even further open to press against the exposed fang, coaxing an incoherent moan from the full figure before her.
"You have such perfect skin, Mizuki. Don't make me mar it."
An almost imperceptible nod, and the broken chopstick clattered to the ground. Almost as silently as she had come, Mizuki fled back into the dark, leaving Riho to stand alone, face shadowed with her back to the window. Slowly, she raises her thumb to her face, watching as a bead of black dyed blood wells up from the pinprick on it, leached of colour in the dark.
She pressed the thumb against her own mouth, letting the dark red rouge her lips as she traced them, turning back to gaze back into the garden of lilies outside her window, white beckoning to white above. A sibilant tongue follows after the action, licking the liquid life off her thin lips. By moonlight, her canines flashed even more brilliantly than the softer white of the lilies outside.