Chip: Ehe, hey guys! I know some of your are eagerly awaiting an update on my other Vampire Knight story, "Blood Bonds" and I assure you, my beloved editor (Dale, truly) is driving me with a whip. Just to reassure you that I'm still alive (though I've been dreadfully busy) I'm giving you kiddies a present.
I offer up to you, the starving hordes, my own drabbles for the Vampire Knight fandom. Multi, random pairings and senseless, failed humor. Prepare yourself for it; pray, if you have to. Be aware that I take no money or reward from this (besides your reviews) and do it only out of love.
So, here you go.
"Drabbles By Moonlight"
[Desires]
The marble pillars of the smaller ballroom held the cathedral ceiling aloft above his head, making space for the silence only an empty estate such as this one could create on its own.
Kaname-sama was away this evening on urgent business with the newly elected council members, yet again. The governors of their society were a tedious lot and their management was something that their King deigned to do himself, leaving his mate at home.
And it was Hanabusa's job to make sure the Queen was well entertained.
He bowed low to the lady as she entertained the ballroom, holding his gaze to the ground in respect. She made no sound but was very suddenly at his side, her small warm hands on his cheeks to draw his head up. She gave him the most minute of smiles, her gloriously burgundy eyes burning low behind half-mast pale eyelids and too-long lashes.
She drew him from his bow and he took her in his arms, positioned as she willed him to be. She was his charge, in Kaname's absence; his duty was to please her.
There was no music, no rhythm or rhyme. There was only the near-quiet sound of her long dress fluttering like gossamer between them with every step and the soft tap of his shoes on the floor. She danced barefoot, as she always did.
It was something, a trait, all her own.
Distinctly the Queen and still, some how, the ridiculous human girl he'd once been so hell-bent on tasting.
But those were thoughts best left unsaid, unreviewed. Her power to pierce the veil between her mind and his was growing increasingly from one rising to the next.
She gave him another little smile as he turned her about, her skirt whispering against the fabric of his slacks. Her hair hung in a fragrant fall down her back, teasing at his senses with the scent of lulling lavender and sensual jasmine.
If her hands in his are a little too comfortable, too warm, it is no fault of theirs. His hands are always cold, always chilled. His eyes are the shade of ice, but if they soften to liquid topaz when he looks at her, it cannot be helped.
Even if she stretches on her toes to press the softest of kisses against the curve of his jaw, she does not say she loves him.
Because he is her guardian when her lover is away; nothing more, nothing less.
There are no words of love between them, but like the wild absence of the music in this silent home...
...it does not keep him from fulfilling her desires.
