"Awe, thank you, sweetie~!" Osamu hummed as I handed him his freshly made beef stew that I had helped Lance prepare for dinner. "Can you give me a TV tray, too?"

"Oh, sorry." I mumbled and retrieved for lovely Osamu a TV tray from the rack on the kitchen wall.

"Get me one, too." Lance ordered not as kindly as Osamu had, but I nodded and obliged anyway, setting the two trays side by side in front of the couch.

As Osamu clunked his bowl on the tray I had set, Lance entered the room and swiftly sat down on the couch beside Osamu. "Your food is ready." he dismissed with his voice, not taking a single glance at me.

I nodded and went off to the kitchen, swooped up my bowl of stew (admittedly, it was a very small portion) and headed back to the living room.

Since there was no room on the couch for the three of us without being squished together like sardines, I took my usual seat on the floor in between my two masters. I didn't even care about how degrading it may have seemed. It was better than eating locked in a room all by my lonesome, or worse, with that lunatic Marcy.

This was our routine. Ever since Marcy died, Lance or Osamu would come home, fix something for dinner, and then sit down in the living room in front of the TV, often not saying a word. It was one of the few quiet pleasures of life.

Immediately following Marcy's death, though, I would have to eat alone in my room, which I didn't mind, but after Osamu pointed out how pitiful it seemed, like the kind person he is, he invited me to eat with them on the floor. Nothing in the world could have made me happier. I felt like a cherished pet, if not a part of their little family. Our little family.

As routine, after Osamu wolfed down his meal, he set his warm hand on top of my head, provoking a sheepish smile from me.

"So how do you two like your new gifts I got you?" he asked as he leaned back in his seat to cross his legs, his hand calmly stroking my soft hair.

"I love mine so much I'm wearing it right now." I chimed, twisting my body around to face Osamu, who was perched all the way up on the couch.

"I noticed, baby." he replied, sliding his hand off my scalp to softly fondle the new, shiny gold chain in between his fingers. After shining down on me, Osamu turned his head to the side to get an answer from Lance, too. "What about you, love? You're awfully quiet."

Lance shrugged in response, struggling to swallow the mouthful of dry beef stew he had stuffed into his mouth. "Oh, I like it. Thank you."

"Are you sure, honey?" Osamu interrogated further, his hand resting on Lance's thigh and rubbing smooth circles as he leaned closer and closer to Lance's face almost tauntingly.

Lance looked down at Osamu's plump lips and with a sharp sigh, he set down his spoon and gave the other a smooch. "Yes, I'm sure. What is it that you want?"

The other took his hand off Lance's thigh and crossed his arms instead. "Who said I wanted anything?"

Lance gave Osamu an unamused look. "Don't play coy with me, Osamu. Besides, I think I already know what is it you want, you tramp."

Osamu smiled wider and chuckled at Lance. "Oh yeah? And what's that?"

"Sai, put the dishes up." Lance ordered before he scooted up to Osamu, planting his day-old-liver-lips onto Osamu's warm, kind mouth.

Their mouths molded together like clay. It looked so natural that it appeared as if they had been practicing kissing for a thousand years, the wet sounds of their skin being sucked together and ripped apart filling the room.

Lance's corpse hand slinked up Osamu's thigh to his crotch, palming it up and down before I couldn't take it anymore and averted my eyes. It was the strangest feeling, but whenever I saw or heard them making love, the deepest pit of jealousy opened up in the bottom of my heart. I had no reason to feel that way, either. They had been lovers long before I came into their lives.

I hated the way Lance's snow white skin looked sickly next to Osamu's healthy, bronze skin. I hated the way he stared at Osamu with his emotionless, half dead eyes like he could strangle with his gaze. I loathed how he ungratefully wouldn't even let himself moan out in pleasure as Osamu pounded into him and instead, closed his eyes and let out sigh after sigh. I felt bottomless envy and hatred towards Lance for treating Osamu the way he did, but I never uttered a word. I only watched and excused myself time after time.

I tried hard to block out and ignore the noises Lance and Osamu made in the other room by washing down and scrubbing the dishes to vivaciously the paint began to fade.

There's no reason to be like this.

There's no reason to feel like this.

So why?

Before ruining the designs on the dishes, I put them all away on the drying rack and set my hands on the edges of the sink, letting out a sigh.

This is silly...

Like a woman on the verge of tears, I picked myself up with a deep breath before pushing off the counter to walk out of the kitchen and into the living room. I was of the state of mind that perhaps Lance and Osamu wanted alone time and that I could quietly excuse myself to my room.

Upon entering the living room, however, I was frozen in place by the erotic scene before me. My eyes were fixed on the pale hand that glided effortlessly over Osamu's groin. That hand did not belong there, yet it had been there, rubbing over Osamu's clothed groin many, many times.

Like twin serpents, their eyelids opened and their pupils rolled over to my body standing stark still in the archway that divided that kitchen and the den. Averting his attention over to me, Osamu gently pulled out of the kiss with Lance, to which the paler contently resumed kissing the skin at Osamu's reddish neck, his hand still teasing Osamu's bulge between his agape thighs.

"Why don't you come over here and sit at my feet, sweetness?" he beckoned to me with that kind trill of a voice.

My heart melted and I couldn't help but give my master a weak, little smile as I pitter pattered my way over to Osamu's feet and took a seat right betwixt his open knees.

"What a good little boy~" he praised, stroking my raven hair and then pressing the gold chain around my neck in between his finger tips. "Can you do master a little favor and loosen his pants?"

"Yessir." I found myself saying voluntarily and with a strange, twisted pleasure.