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If Your Love Were a Flower

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When the sun had sunk beneath the horizon and the only light in the room was the dim reflection of the spot on Yukimura's workbench, he finally heard the door of his housemate's room swing open behind him.

"Mm-nnnh~ Exercising first thing in the evening is the best!"

A smile made its way onto Yukimura's face at the familiar sound, the familiar sight. As always, he appeared in a new set of jogging clothes, fresh from the yoga routine he knew him to do when he woke up.

"Good evening. Did you sleep well?"

"Like on a bed of roses," Shiraishi laughed, moonlight on his hair in the glow of the night.

Yukimura leaned his arm on the back of his chair as he turned around in his chair to look at him better.

"I'm glad. Would you like breakfast, maybe?"

Brown eyes blinked. "Are you offering to make it for me?"

Yukimura chuckled. "I'm feeling like it."

"Even though you know I can't repay you the favour..." Shiraishi let out a huff that was more of a laugh. "I'll stop by the 24-7 for you, as thanks."

Yukimura stood up to look Shiraishi in the eyes more closely.

"That'd be lovely... But you know you wouldn't have had to."

And with a final smile to him, Yukimura made his way to the kitchen.



Shiraishi was a mysterious fellow, Yukimura had decided. Getting up no earlier than the first rays of the moon, going out the door at night, and returning before the morning sun peeked over the horizon...

Shiraishi told him it was for his study and work, a night shift at a pharmacy lab, but Yukimura had started to wonder if he wasn't just allergic to sunlight. After all...

Blinds were one thing, but Shiraishi's room may well not have windows at all.

He told him it had to do with something about photosensitive chemicals... It wasn't something that Yukimura couldn't understand, he was well-versed in the workings and decays of dyes and paints after all, but to reverse his day-night rhythm for it... 

Well, he supposed he should let it speak for Shiraishi's diligence. Probably.

"How was your day yesterday?"

Before he knew it, they were making light conversation at the table beside his workbench, Shiraishi enjoying a breakfast tea and Yukimura himself a late-night cup of chamomile.

"I'm glad you asked! You see, we were looking to see if the hogweed family's sap could be turned medicinal with the right treatment..."

"I've heard rumours the genus was named after Heracles using it medicinally, but I couldn't confirm them. In either case, with the giant hogweed's size..."

Shiraishi smiled. "I didn't know that. That'd make it all the more fun if we did manage to make it useful. You know..."

Shiraishi started telling him about the various poisons of the plants in the genus, and how some were more dangerous than others. Yukimura didn't have a lot of stories to tell of them, himself, but different days would bring different plants, and he loved listening to his findings regardless. 

Before he knew it, Yukimura found himself staying up much later than he should, time and time again, just to talk with Shiraishi a little longer.

"That reminds me..." Shiraishi looked past Yukimura, at his canvases hanging to dry. Yukimura followed his gaze to where the hues of a morning glory shifted between panels of daffodils and amaranths. "Your small atelier seems even more colourful than yesterday."

Yukimura chuckled, watched the way Shiraishi's eyes shifted in the dusky light as they went over each painting. 

"I like flowers, after all. Like this, they can bloom a little longer." 

"I've noticed..." Shiraishi whispered, pulling away his strangely longing stare from the paintings to Yukimura. "You planted lots of flowering plants in the garden, too. I'm glad it's well-taken care of."

Yukimura blinked. "You can tell without seeing the flowers?"

The chair creaked as Shiraishi pleasantly leaned back in it.

"I like reading plant encyclopedias on my off time. I've had enough time to learn plenty of beautiful flowers by their leaves, their stems and their buds."

Yukimura had had an inkling Shiraishi liked plants more than simply for their medicinal properties. It was almost obvious, but he hadn't dared ask if Shiraishi was a human of the night. Given his words, however, Yukimura could barely hold the excitement in his heart.

"Do you have a favourite flower?" Yukimura asked, soft and careful.

Shiraishi took a pensive sip of his red tea, and when he breathed out, an answer appeared on his lips.

"Foxglove, maybe... Monkshood is beautiful too."

There was fondness in Shiraishi's eyes, pleasantly amused, Yukimura leaned himself on his hand.

"Those are some unusual beauties. Usually, people would answer with roses."

A laugh left Shiraishi's lips. "And that while there's much more interesting plants out there..."

Shiraishi set his cup back down on the saucer, the dark of moonlight falling in his eyes, over the curve of his crimson lips.

"Poisonous flowers... Don't you think they're beautiful?"

Yukimura smiled. He should have guessed it.

"I'm not the kind of person to like flowers for how easily they could harm me," Yukimura told him softly. 

"But... The more troublesome the flower, the prettier it is. I don't dislike them, no, not at all." Yukimura placed his index finger on the rim of his cup, slowly tracing the edge as he looked at him.

"I'm glad," Shiraishi whispered, and with a gentle smile he brought the tea to his lips. "I don't regret taking you to be the one to live in with me."

"How could I resist? An old and quiet neighbourhood, plenty of space for the price, with only the ultimatum that I take good care of the garden... It's more than I could ever wish for."

"A lot of people had second thoughts when they heard about the garden and my working hours, though..."

Yukimura chuckled. "The garden is my pleasure, and I'm not bothered with your hours... Though I had expected someone older to be the owner."

A teasing smile came to be on Shiraishi's lips. "You would rather be living in with an old man?"

Yukimura laughed, shook his head. "I'm glad it was you."

"Same here. Thank you."

Calmly, Yukimura tilted his head. "Is that for the garden, or for the poisonous flowers?"

Piercing eyes connected straight to his.


Yukimura raised his chin from his hand, and stretched it out to him. "Would you mind if I drew one, Shiraishi?"

Shiraishi blinked, before smiling softly. "Of course not."

"Then, do you have time next Saturday?" Yukimura looked at him, resting his now free arm eagerly on the table.

"I do. Should I bring any clothes, or are they your pick...?"

"Casual is fine. What, you think I'm going to put you in a suit and a tattered cape?"

He chuckled, and before long Shiraishi laughed with him.

"It's been a while since I was painted, so I wasn't..."

"Unless you want me to pick out something I think may suit you, I won't force you into anything. Don't worry."

Shiraishi's slightly troubled face melted into relief, until it made way for something in between amusement and worry.

"Yukimura, isn't your tea going to go cold?"

"Ah!" Looking down at his no longer clouding tea, Yukimura laughed. "Perhaps..."

He brought the cup to his lips, and sure enough, the liquid had become much more lukewarm than he'd usually drink it. "That's a shame."

Yukimura looked at Shiraishi's half-finished cup, and a strange wistfulness filled his heart.

Somehow, he wished his chamomile would last him just a little bit longer.

"But that aside..." Yukimura put his other hand around his cup as well. "Can you tell me a bit more about the flowers you like?"

Shiraishi's smile was warm.




The light of lanterns and the taps of his footsteps were the only things accompanying Shiraishi as he made his way through the streets of the city. Leaving the 24-7 with a bag of groceries slung over his shoulder, at the devil's hour, Shiraishi wandered in search of prey. 

He wasn't even supposed to go out hunting at night, frankly speaking. It was for a reason that he rented a room of his house to a human, and it was certainly not just for the garden. Yes, with someone living in with him, it would be all too easy to feed on them at night and make them not remember a thing afterwards, and the outside world would be nothing wiser... 

Shiraishi sighed. 

Yukimura should have been no different. At least, he was supposed to have been. Sure, he held off tasting his neck to see if he'd be able to take care of the garden. He wanted to gain Yukimura's trust.

That's why he'd been on the hunt, for the time being.

Then... why was it, that he was still hunting now? Why did he avoid biting him? Why, when he looked in Yukimura's eyes—

Shiraishi bit his lips. 

Calm down, Kuranosuke. You'll find your hunger for him sooner or later. For now...

The scent of a lone woman came drifting on the wind. Ahh, how perfect.

"Excuse me, miss..."

In a matter of seconds he caught up with her, approached her, with the stealth of the dark.

"W-What? Who are you?"

She seemed wary. Strangers past midnight usually didn't bide well, he admitted. Though he was no true exception.

"Can I ask something of you?"

"No! Find someone else!" She turned around, and started walking away.

"I'm not going to harm you."

At ease in the dark, it took Shiraishi but a single step and the flicker of a street lantern to appear in front of her. He caught her chin, lifted it up with his free hand, until their gazes were aligned. And then, he changed his voice.

"Calm down."

It resounded low, reverberating between the buildings and the nightly street, timbre silky and entrancing. Shiraishi smirked. Hypnotic.

The red of his own eyes reflected in hers, which were steadily growing docile and dim.

"Good girl."

Cradling her chin, he whispered to her in the same tone of voice, to "Come." And she obliged without a breath of hesitation. He took her into an alleyway, outside the sights of the city, fangs bared and eyes red.

Arm would be easier to hide, sure, but he thirsted for her neck. He blamed Yukimura.

"Sorry. This will hurt a little."

He leaned into the nook of her neck, feeling with his lips for her pulse, and when he could feel her blood rushing under them, he bit.

A cry of pain accompanied the warm taste of blood filling his mouth, and even though his voice had put her to sleep she wanted to resist... It was a futile struggle, as the touch of his teeth quickly left her weak in her knees, as wax in his hands.  

Heartbeat by heartbeat he indulged into the sweet ambrosia, taking his time for every gulp, every petal of the red rose of blood flowering on her neck, and when he had his fill he released his fangs from her neck and licked the wound shut. 

The girl slumped to the floor.

Shiraishi was by no means a messy eater, but it was hard not to bite too hard when you finally have a neck in your mouth. He wiped a trickle of blood from his chin, but when he looked the splatters of damage to his clothes were already done. Ah well. Nothing he couldn't wash out. As for her...

"You will make your way home from here," Shiraishi whispered lullingly, "and you will forget any of this has happened. You won't question the mark on your neck, but you will want to cover it. Can you do that for me?"

Slowly, she nodded. He smiled.

"Thanks for the meal."

Turning around, as he walked back into the streetlight, Shiraishi picked a stray drop of blood off of the plastic bag and licked it up. That wouldn't do. 

Not with Yukimura.

Now, to get home before it gets light.



"Why did you want to paint me?"

Shiraishi was perched on the windowsill, moonlight and the night's wind of the opened window on his back.

Yukimura smiled. 

"Why not?"

His brush went over a fabric Shiraishi couldn't see the surface of, over Shiraishi's shape reflected on it. If it were other times, he may not have known what his mirror image looked like, but their material had changed from silver to aluminium and accordingly his own shape reflected in the bathroom.

And yet this image belonged to Yukimura alone.

"I thought you'd make a good light study, is my excuse. But honestly, I just wanted to."

Yukimura's chuckle was one he couldn't help but smile along to. There was something about Yukimura that pulled him in, something in his eyes that made him fall into his dance again and again and he couldn't regret it. They connected to his, lingeringly playful, before they shifted into something more like worry.

"Speaking of, you're... really pale."

"Is that so?" Yukimura was concerned for him like for a human, yet somehow, it gripped his heart.

"Do you get enough sunlight? Maybe you should consider a tanning bed of some sort..."

Shiraishi laughed. 

"You don't have to worry. I take plenty of the supplements I need." That those were blood wasn't something Yukimura had to know.

"I see..." His voice rolled cautiously past his lips, but his smile was gently sharp. "Well, as long as you keep healthy there's nothing to worry about, right?"

Suddenly, Yukimura's gaze on him felt deep, intimately deep, and his unbeating heart skipped a beat. It wasn't different from before, and his brush was still making strokes over the paper, yet he felt as if he was being laid bare by his eyes. It was almost as if Yukimura had the reins in hands, as if Shiraishi was no longer the hunter in their house. An illusion, for sure, but it was enough for a shiver to travel over his back. 

That a human could make him feel this way... Shiraishi couldn't withhold a smirk.

"I've finished. You can come look, if you want."

When he noticed, Yukimura's gaze had softened to his usual strong and kind smile.

"O-Of course..."

Shiraishi got off the windowsill and took a look at the canvas.

This is... me?


Yukimura chuckled. "You know you're saying that about yourself?" Yet, there was a soft blush tinging Yukimura's cheeks.

Shiraishi's eye fell on the flower Yukimura drew into his hands.

"Is that aconite?"

"Yes. You mentioned it, right?"

Shiraishi chuckled. "That plant is poisonous to the touch... I wouldn't be able to cradle it like that and come out of it alive."

"I have the feeling you could," Yukimura whispered, looking at Shiraishi past the waves of his hair. "Though of course it's only a hunch."

It may not be too far off, Shiraishi thought, as he bit his cheek to keep himself from reaching out to stroke those blue locks.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Shiraishi asked Yukimura instead, before that want could get the better of him. Yukimura chuckled.

"Of course."

While Yukimura was putting away his art supplies, leaving the canvas to dry, Shiraishi put on hot water. By the time Yukimura was done, Shiraishi waited for him on the couch with a cup of chamomile. It was late for Yukimura, after all.

It always surprised him how easy time went by when he was talking to Yukimura. Shifting from art to plants, to nothing in particular, they merrily talked through the sinking of the moon until Yukimura suddenly put his cup on the table.

"Hey, Shiraishi... You asked me to take care of the garden as part of the reason to live in with you..."


"Doesn't it get lonely, when you can't see the flowers bloom?"

Shiraishi closed his eyes. "...Just a little. I do miss seeing the real things blooming."

A languid smile appeared on Yukimura's face.

"I thought so. You treat the plants in the garden so gently when I'm not looking, after all."

He embarrassedly put his hand behind his head.

"Y-You noticed..."

Yukimura laughed softly. "I heard you one night talking to the plants. When I looked you were checking the bindings of the fresh stalks..."

Shiraishi couldn't help but laugh nervously. He'd have to make sure not to tell the plants any weird things, then...

"I do what I can, but watering at night makes the roots rot... Though I do admit that your paintings help a little, regardless."

"I'm glad. I'll do what I can, too," Yukimura whispered.

Shiraishi tilted his head, but Yukimura shook his.

"Did you recognise which plant you bound up?"

It was as easy as that to bring the conversation back to where they'd been before. Cups emptied, and although Yukimura's responses were gradually getting slower and shorter, he was still happily listening.

At least, until Shiraishi suddenly felt a warmth against his shoulder. 


He didn't answer. Eyes closed, Yukimura had peacefully fallen asleep against him...

Shiraishi had never seen Yukimura like this before. Usually, there was an air of sophistication about him, a gentle and indeterminable elegance, but now he was just innocently breathing, vulnerable, neck bare—

He quickly shook the thought out of his mind.

"Sorry to keep you up so long," Shiraishi whispered. He put one arm behind Yukimura's back, his other under his legs, and carefully he lifted Yukimura from the couch in his arms. 

Shiraishi smiled softly when Yukimura's head leaned against his chest, adjusting his grip lightly, he carried Yukimura to his bed.

Pulling the blanket over the quietly sleeping Yukimura, he turned around one more time as he made his way to the door.

"Sleep well, Yukimura. See you tomorrow."

And with a final smile, he turned the light off.



Shiraishi found it strange how aromatic the garden seemed to be when he visited it this night. 

"Is something wrong, Shiraishi?"

When he turned around, he saw Yukimura at the garden table, reading a book by the light of a candle, a small blanket over his shoulders.


It was a sweet smell. Where did... Apparently Yukimura had noticed him searching, amused, he stretched his hand out towards him.

"Sit with me, Shiraishi."

Shiraishi smiled, and took the invitation. And right when he took place across Yukimura, his eye fell on a single flower blooming in the moonlight. Yukimura was softly stroking its petals.

"That isn't Datura, is it? Judging from the vine... Moonflower?"

Yukimura smiled, and nodded. "Moonflower, indeed. Do you like it?"

Shiraishi found himself mesmerised by the touch of Yukimura's finger on the pure white petal.

"Yeah... I hadn't thought you'd be able to grow it here."

"It'll wilt by winter, but I wanted you to see it."

Shiraishi smiled, the little blood he had rushing to his cheeks. "In a way, it's what makes living things beautiful, isn't it?"

"It's a reminder to enjoy the things we have while they last..." Yukimura's hand left the flower, the shadows shifting pensively in his eyes.


A wind brushed the locks of Yukimura's hair. "There's been rumours among my art friends... Well, I've seen the marks myself, so it's more of a theory..."

Shiraishi's borrowed blood ran cold in his veins.


"Yes. Two spots on the arm, right here," Yukimura let his fingers go over his own arm, until they roughly reached the radial artery. "Or," Yukimura reached up to his neck, "right here."

Shiraishi softly swallowed.

"A mosquito, no?"

"Perhaps... But I have my doubts. My friends, though, are joking there's a vampire roaming the streets at night."

Shiraishi tried his best to laugh. "That's ridiculous. Vampires don't exist, do they?"

Yukimura fell silent for a bit. 

"I'm not so much of a romantic that I want to believe it. But it would make sense, wouldn't it? Similar marks, appearing in the mornings after late nights, pale tiredness, and..."

He pulled on the blanket over his shoulder. "Every time I've asked someone about them, they seemed awfully unconcerned, as if they couldn't even force themselves to place question marks."

A soft laugh sounded through the garden. "It's mysterious, isn't it?"

Shiraishi raised one of his eyebrows.

"You think there's a human messing with you guys?"

"I don't know. I've asked my friends to tell me when they notice anyone with new marks. Perhaps I can figure out the culprit that way."

Yukimura's eyes stayed fixed on his as he spoke, and it took all of Shiraishi's composure to keep his smile intact.

"Good luck." 


is bad.



Shiraishi was tapping his pen against his lips at the study in his room, trying to distract himself from the burning thirst he felt with university work. The solution he had come to had been simple, in theory. He had to make sure that him going out didn't coincide with Yukimura noting a mark, which meant that he had no choice but to fast. He hadn't tasted a drop of blood in weeks.

Temptation threatened to take him whenever he caught scent of a human on his way home from the lab, and at the same time, it became more and more difficult to resist the neck of his housemate. 

In the end, Shiraishi had no choice but to hole up in his room, no matter how much he wanted to talk to Yukimura again.

He knew he just had to stay inside until Yukimura's suspicion cleared, but it was getting harder each day.

His train of thought was interrupted by knocking on his bedroom's door.


It was Yukimura... Shiraishi bit his lip.


The door to his room opened, and Yukimura's shape greeted him in the light of the living room.

"Can you come with me for a bit?"

Shiraishi turned around on his chair and tilted his head. "For what?"

Yukimura placed his finger on his lips. "It's a surprise."

Shiraishi knew that denying him would only raise more suspicion. 

"Of course." He followed Yukimura out of his room, and let him lead him through the house to... the garden door? What was there to—

A sea of red roses greeted him as soon as he stepped outside. No, those weren't roses... 

"I planted these hoping you might like them," Yukimura said from by his side. "It would be a waste if they bloomed without seeing your eye."

"Red cereus..." Shiraishi whispered. The moon illuminated the seldom-flowering Queen of the Night, scattered between blooming bouquets of white, moon-kissed petals.

It was a breathtaking sight, and Yukimura adorned the middle of it.

Slowly he became aware of the soft piano of a waltz, breaking the silence.

"This is..."


Yukimura stretched his hand out towards him, a sweet smile on his face.

"Can I have this dance?"

Despite his instincts, Shiraishi's legs walked forward, and he smiled back at Yukimura.

"How could I refuse?"

Reaching out towards Yukimura's hand, Shiraishi swallowed when it touched his own. Unlike his own, Yukimura's hand was warm, and yet it felt nothing but right. Yukimura's other hand rested on his hip, and Shiraishi took Yukimura's shoulder in his.


With a careful step they started a twirl through the reaches of the garden.

"You see red roses often, don't you?" Yukimura started. "Though the ones blooming at night are only for your eyes."

"I haven't seen them in a long time," Shiraishi answered. Yukimura didn't have anything over his shoulders today, his bare neck enticing Shiraishi's vision.

"On your way home, perhaps?"

Yukimura gave him a sharp smile, motions ever elegant. Shiraishi shook his head.

"This garden has the only flower I've laid my eyes on in much too long."

The next step they made, the distance between them closed a little, Shiraishi gripping further on Yukimura's shoulder.

"The roses of the street haven't quenched your loneliness, then."

Shiraishi laughed wistfully. 

"No..." Yukimura continued, "You preferred aconite, didn't you?"

Yukimura's hand curled further around his back, the warm touch almost dizzying.

"I do. It's a dangerously beautiful flower."

He was pulled into a twirl, Yukimura's blue-purple eyes slightly higher than him as he dipped down.

"Who do you think suits it more?" Yukimura asked him.

"Who do you think?"

Even though he knew his answer, Shiraishi returned the question. Yukimura chuckled, a bright ringing passing his lips, and Shiraishi's heart would've stopped had it beaten. 

Yes... Yukimura and that flower are one of a kind.

"I drew it in your hands, didn't I?"

Shiraishi smiled. Neither answer was truly wrong, after all.

Before he knew it, his hips touched Yukimura's. Yukimura's scent filled his senses, close as they were, and in a turn of inattention their foreheads briefly connected.

"If you were a poisonous flower, would you be nightshade, I wonder? Both its names fit you, even if you're not a donna."

Shiraishi laughed softly at Yukimura's suggestion.

"That sounds not too bad, coming from your lips."

With their faces only a few inches away, the tone of their conversation softened.

"I've heard rumours the taste of your flower is a sharp one," Yukimura whispered.

"They're true." Shiraishi's lips grazed past his cheek. "A deep ache, sharp, but you'd find yourself gasping for breath if you let it."

Yukimura's smile had a suggestive edge to it. 

"Bitter? Sweet?"

"Not as much as you..." Shiraishi breathed.

Their chests melded together as their pass grew narrower and narrower.

"Would you think it's different from a red rose given on the street?" Yukimura's fingers slightly squeezed his hand where he held it in his, and Shiraishi could almost feel Yukimura's heart beat.

"Red roses are many's favourite, but..." Shiraishi looked into Yukimura's eyes. "Given so cheaply as gifts, I can't find as much love for them, as a flower."

"When given to a lover who knows how much it means," Yukimura whispered, "even such a simple gift can become the world."

Losing himself to the warmth of Yukimura's embrace, Shiraishi's fangs pricked in his mouth.

Yukimura leaned in to whisper in Shiraishi's ear.

"You can take it."

Closing his eyes, his lips caressed Yukimura's cheek again, before he trailed down over his chin to kiss his neck. Yukimura gasped at the touch, and lost his footing. Before Shiraishi knew it, he was pulled with him, to fall onto the soft grass.

He opened his eyes to Yukimura's blue waves, strewn over the dark green of the moonlit halms under him. Though Shiraishi's hand had let go of his shoulder to brace their fall, Yukimura's hand still rested lightly on Shiraishi's back. Smile adorning his face, Yukimura reached his other hand up to cradle Shiraishi's cheek.

"Your eyes are beautiful. Just like a crimson rose."

Shiraishi leaned into the warmth of his hand, then down, until his lips found Yukimura's. Longingly Shiraishi kissed him, fingers tangling in his hair, and with no moment's hesitation he felt Yukimura kiss back. Yukimura's lips were soft and strong, fire overtaking his body, Shiraishi deepened the kiss to taste more of Yukimura's lips. Somehow, they felt like home.

When he let go, he was greeted by Yukimura's rosy cheeks, Yukimura's fingers caressing the faint heat in his own. Shiraishi nuzzled down, lips resting against Yukimura's warm skin.

"Well? Aren't you going to bi-aaaaAAAh..."

Eagerly, his teeth sank into the soft of Yukimura's neck. As he bit down, Yukimura's warm blood welled up inside his mouth, and he felt Yukimura's hand tighten on his back. So sweet...

Shiraishi took his time to savour the taste, indulgent hums passing his lips with every mouthful he took. And with every heartbeat that his teeth remained in Yukimura's neck, he heard Yukimura's hot breaths rise under him. It was enough to drive him mad.

Yukimura's head rolled slightly more to the side, purposefully spurring him on to bite deeper. There was little he could do to resist. Crumbling under the temptation, Shiraishi sucked slightly harder, a sweet noise escaping from Yukimura's lips.

The hand that had been on his cheek moved to the nape of Shiraishi's neck. Yukimura pulled him close, hips to hips, until he was firmly, warmly locked in his embrace.

A sigh passed Shiraishi's lips. Greedily he gulped down on the titillating taste of Yukimura's blood, seeking out Yukimura's gasps where he could, melting away in Yukimura's arms.

It was heaven. But...

He needed to stop here, before Yukimura would suffer come morning. With the touch of his tongue, slow and bitter licks, Shiraishi closed the holes his teeth had left.

A small trail of blood was left on Yukimura's neck when he pulled back, a red rose blooming on Yukimura's pale skin. Yukimura's cheeks were as red as his own, and Shiraishi had to take a few moments to catch his breath.

"It seems... you weren't lying..." Yukimura whispered. Breaths still deep, Yukimura looked as satisfied as he was.

"I told you, didn't I...?" Shiraishi gave him a smile.

Yukimura laughed hazily, reaching up to stroke Shiraishi's cheek once more.

"Don't dry yourself out too much next time. I'd hate to see my favourite belladonna wilt."

He overlaid Yukimura's hand with his own, basking in its touch for a second before he locked eyes with Yukimura again.

"Will you keep my secret?" Shiraishi asked.

"That depends," Yukimura teased. "Will you come bite me again?"

A fangy smirk making its way onto his face, Shiraishi placed a soft peck on Yukimura's lips.

"When you have blood to spare."

Yukimura chuckled, and reached up with his face to double the favour.

"I'd have no greater joy."