Archive of Our Own

The first time is an honest to God mistake.

Rumi wakes from a very lovely dream to find she is all alone. The vestiges of said dream still clings wetly to the center of her thighs as Rumi's hands reach out in desperate need of contact. It's as much to satiate the ever present want of being touched as it is to satiate the thrum of arousal still humming in her veins. She expects to be met with warm, soft skin and only finds cool, empty sheets.

Her eyes squint as she takes in her darkened bedroom—lit only faintly by the soft purple glow of her scars pulsing along to her heart beat—to confirm that she is in fact alone. The pout worms its way across her lips without permission. She sits herself up, a loose fist rubbing at her eye and a low hiss falling from her lips when she realizes just how wet her dream has left her.

She almost doesn't notice the soft flutter of paper until her eyes are fully open.

The sticky note is face down in her lap, like it had been on her chest before Rumi woke, and a smile creeps across her lips in anticipation. It's not the first time she's napped for way longer than she should. It's like now that she no longer has to hide pieces of herself her body was making up for all the nights she lost sleep tossing and turning in anxiety. Zoey and Mira usually stayed with her while she slept but sometimes—

Rumi flips the sticky note over to the tight scrawl of Zoey's handwriting.

We left to pick up dinner and you looked tooooo cute to disturb! Be back soon! Love you! <3 —Zomira

There's a lipstick stain pressed against the note in a familiar red that Rumi knows belongs to Mira. The warmth of their love—even now knowing she is half demon, even now knowing what she asked Celine to do—staunches a slow healing wound in the center of her chest and leaves a radiating warmth in her limbs. It's almost enough to forget the other radiating warmth nestled between her thighs.

It was still new to her to feel desire like this without the accompanying anxiety and shame but Zoey and Mira took painstaking care to pull it free of her orgasm by mind blowing—sometimes edged—orgasm until it was all Rumi could think about half the time. If Zoey or Mira were here, all Rumi would have to do is cuddle up against them. Maybe even skirt her fingertips along the edges of Mira's jaw or the rounded curve of Zoey's ear and then she'd be flattened onto her back or tummy while they soothed the ache into a gentle purr.

Rumi considers slipping her hand down the front of her thong for all of twelve seconds before she decides against it. It would just work her further into a hot, wet puddle and with her luck Zoey and Mira would find her in the midst of frustration and drag it out just to see her squirm.

She resigns herself to waiting and just because she doesn't work herself up physically it doesn't mean her mind doesn't do the job for her. She thinks of her dream—a memory really—and the way Mira's body felt under her, the ghost of Zoey's breath against her ear, the bite of nails against her skin and the bruising pressure of a fist around her wrists and hips and throat— she barely stops herself from dipping below the band of her thong.

Rumi reaches for her phone, frustration and need and yearning all warring for the top spot, and opens her thread with Zoey. She is hoping to use Zoey's chronically online personality trait to her advantage as she thumbs out a fast text.

Rumi: I'm awake

Zoey: Hi sleeping beauty!!!!

Rumi: When are you coming back?

Rumi: Is Mira with you?

Zoey: 1 image attached

Zoey: She's not happy I dragged her into this store but I saw a really cute lamp for your office!!!

Rumi: I thought you were getting dinner?

Zoey: Sorry baby we got a little distracted

Zoey: We're getting your favorite!!!

Rumi wars between the bubbling warmth of being loved and bristling indignation at being made to wait over a lamp. Still she resigns herself to waiting a little longer. They deserved to frolic about the markets at will. Especially with the way they have so little time right now between press and mini concerts to promote their next album. Only her desire doesn't cool so Rumi decides to give them a little encouragement.

Rumi knows she is hot—everyone's type truly—so thinking of a pose for her photo to show them what they're missing doesn't take long at all. She strips out of Mira's shirt as she sinks to her knees in front of the ceiling to floor mirror in her bedroom. She doesn't bother with turning on a light, not with the way the purple glow of arousal along her scars casts the sheer white of her thong into perfect brilliance.

The first round of photos don't hit the mark she is looking for despite the way her arousal worsens with each shutter of her camera. It's almost a Pavlovian response to the sound. She knows Zoey has a collection of Rumi in varying states of undress— and orgasm and begging and everything in between. The memories only further the glow of her scars until even the camera picks up on the luminescence.

She thinks of the rosiness of Zoey's cheeks whenever she sees Rumi naked that never fails to make Rumi flush with warmth. She thinks of the predatory glimmer in Mira's eyes that never fails to elicit a full body shiver. She thinks of the lilting croon of Zoey's soft instructions and gentle teasing. She thinks of the deepened rasp of Mira's orders and taunts. She thinks of panting in her ears, lips and teeth gliding along her body, but most of all she thinks of the mind numbing pleasure they bring her to each and every time.

Rumi's hand slips beneath her thong with a trembling exhale of air. She is so caught up in thinking about them that the ache between her legs is almost painful. She can't help the way the fast soaking tips of her fingers circle tightly around her already protruding clit.

The photo that results is definitely the one.

She captures her hand in obvious motion beneath her thong, her scars flaring brightly enough to show the stiff peaks of her nipples and the lovely display of supplication on her knees in the otherwise dark room. She sends it to their group chat for extra insurance on a speedy trip home.

Rumi: I'm waiting for both of you to get home <3

There is a brief delay in response where Rumi allows herself two more quick circles to quell the pounding between her legs before she pulls her hand free altogether. She doesn't even get a chance to rise from her knees when her phone vibrates its response.

Zoey: Fuck Rumi you look so good

Mira: We'll be home in ten mins. DO NOT touch yourself until we get there. I know how hard that is for someone as needy as you Rumi

Mira: Maybe we'll give you a reward if you listen

Rumi almost bites through her bottom lip with the effort of not shoving her hands between her legs once more but she makes it through none the less. It's less than ten minutes before the stampede of footsteps is crossing the threshold.

"I can't believe you started without us," Zoey whines faintly as she crosses the threshold into Rumi's room. She is already missing her shirt, the lean muscle of her abdomen on clear display, and she is pushing her pants over her hips and kicking them away before she's even two steps into the room.

"I can't believe you let me wake up alone," Rumi counters along a shaky exhale. Her fingers have found their way back beneath her thong now that they are technically home. Rumi doesn't get a chance to pull them free before Zoey is pouncing on the bed and climbing up Rumi's body. Zoey reaches for her wrist with nimble fingers and tugs until Rumi's hand is held aloft for inspection.

The lights flick on as Mira steps into Rumi's bedroom. She is still entirely dressed in a sleeveless shirt and loose cargoes, still has her hat pulled low on her forehead to rest over her gold rimmed glasses, but the look on her face is anything but casual. She approaches them slowly, both hands stuffed into her pockets and a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

"You slept for hours," Mira tells her easily. "We couldn't waste the entire day on you, Ru."

Rumi's lower lip extends into a pout. "You could have woken me up," she grumbles petulantly.

Zoey lets out a small laugh. "No you needed your rest," she says, the hand not gripping Rumi's wrist reaching out to unfurl Rumi's loose fist until her middle and pointer finger are separated enough to—

Rumi lets out a startled gasp as Zoey's lips envelop her fingers almost half way to her knuckle. Zoey's tongue slithers its way out to meet them and Rumi is not even embarrassed at the way her scars writhe and pulse in response.

Zoey sucks tightly on the outdraw but lets Rumi's hand fall back to the bed. "I plan on having fun with you the rest of the night," she tells Rumi with an almost feral grin. She hooks her fingers into Rumi's thong and tears it right down the middle.

"Zoey!" Rumi cries out but even she can tell its more in arousal than anything else.

Mira lets out a derisive scoff. "Oh please," she says as she finally pulls her hat off her head and sets it on Rumi's bedside table. "She can buy you another one."

Rumi's attention divides between Zoey spreading her thighs apart and then up and the too casual lean of Mira's body as she plucks open Rumi's bedside table drawer open. Her eyes squeeze shut at the hot swipe of Zoey's tongue along her leaking slit, her hands reaching out to fist in Zoey's hair—

"Fuck, Zoey—"

Mira lets out another laugh, drawing Rumi's attention back to her if only partially with the way Zoey's entire mouth was set on devouring—

"Isn't this what you wanted, Rumi?" Mira asks in casual amusement. There is the brief sound of buckles and chain scraping against the wood of Rumi's bedside table and Rumi bucks her hips into Zoey's face in anticipation.

Zoey's response is immediate. She withdraws her mouth to Rumi's gasping displeasure and tightens her grip on Rumi's thighs until Rumi's scars pulse in light. "This is for me, Rumi. You just lay there and take what I give you," her words are soft and sweet but Rumi's wetness coats half her face already and the feral curve of her smile promises anything but soft and sweet.

Rumi clenches down around nothing.

"Yeah, Rumi," Mira chimes back in and this time when Rumi looks at her, she's lost her shirt and dangles a strap on harness for Rumi to see the thick hot pink dildo attached. "Don't you wanna be a good girl for us?"

Rumi's head bobbles in a nod, her breath panting out of her even though the only touch along her body is the tight grip of Zoey's hands on her inner thighs. "Yes," she sighs out shakily when Mira only raises a brow pointedly. "Yes, please, I'll be—" her throat bobs along the knot of arousal that has formed but she musters on. "I'll be good."

Zoey dives back between her legs with little fanfare and Rumi chokes on her moan and renews the fist in Zoey's hair. She is so focused on the white hot lash of Zoey's tongue that she doesn't register Mira climbing onto the bed until there's fingers gripping her chin.

"Rumi," Mira coos with a smirk on her lips. "Don't forget about me." She has lost the rest of her clothes and slipped herself into the harness with Rumi's favorite dildo. It bobs close enough to Rumi's mouth for her lips to part on instinct.

Mira's answering hum of approval as she pushes her cock into Rumi's mouth has a shiver racing down Rumi's spine. "Good girl," Mira hisses when she presses all the way into Rumi's mouth to make Rumi gag. Her hand pets gently at Rumi's head but she doesn't let up on the pressure until Rumi's eyes are teary. "Make me nice and wet for you, baby."

Rumi is hardly one to disobey a direct order—not here in their home. She turns her brain off promptly and lets Zoey and Mira fuck her into mind numbing pleasure over and over again until even her own name is hazy.

When she finally comes back to herself, she is curled safely on her side with Mira's warm weight at her back and Zoey's loving smile in her line of sight.

"Good morning again," Zoey says in a cheeky whisper. She leans forward to pepper kisses gently along Rumi's face. "Hungry yet?"

Rumi's stomach answers for her.

It's during the transition from gentle aftercare to domestic bliss that Rumi reaches idly for her phone. Everything she needs is right here with her but it's habitual to check her notifications anyway.

Rumi almost loses her dinner when she realizes she has a text from Bobby.

Bobby: Hi! Wrong group chat but I'm so glad to see you girls getting along again! I'm always your #1 supporter!! #LoveIsLoveIsLove

Bobby: Rumi would you be interested in a lingerie line? Because WOW! Body is tea!

The humiliation is so deep that Rumi feels sweat dew at her temples with the heat of her blush. The strangled sound of alarm has two sets of hands worrying over in an instant.

"What?" Mira barks out as she reaches for Rumi's cheeks. "Are you okay? What hurts?"

"Was it too spicy?" Zoey frets, rubbing a frantic soothing motion along Rumi's spine that does not actually soothe. "Oh Rumi I told you it was too spicy! Do you want some milk? I think we have—"

"Rumi—fuck look how red she is, Zo—Rumi do you need milk? Can you feel your tongue—"

Rumi tilts her chin out of Mira's grip and effectively cuts off the anxious flow of words being volleyed at her. They both stare at her in expectant concern.

"I accidentally sent that picture to Bobby," Rumi whispers in embarrassment. She brandishes her phone to two contrasting reactions.

Zoey's eyes dart frantically over Rumi's screen before they widen in surprise. The apples of her cheeks darken as her teeth clamp down on her lower lip like she is holding in a laugh. Mira's eyes narrow in deadly precision as she reads quickly and then her face falls into a stoic blank outside the raise of her eyebrow.

"It's fine," Mira says slowly, her voice a little strangled. "It's just— It's just Bobby. It's fine." She plucks the phone from Rumi's hand and locks the screen before setting it out of reach. "I'll talk to him."

"We'll just be more careful," Zoey chimes in but Rumi can see the mirth shimmering in her eyes. "Bobby's like—It's fine—" Her words trail off into a giggle and Rumi feels her blush darken until her scars are whirling a dark pink.

"He saw my boobs!" Rumi cries and then Zoey is laughing in earnest.

Mira's lips purse, like she is trying very hard not to join Zoey in laughing, and Rumi lets out a low whine of embarrassment. It's only a little soothing when Mira wraps her arm around Rumi's shoulders and tugs her into Mira's chest.

"It's okay," Mira says with notable laughter in her voice this time. "It's just Bobby. We can give him a bonus of something. It won't happen again because you'll look before you send, right Rumi?"

Rumi nods pitifully tucked into Mira's neck.

"A lingerie line though? That could be hot!"

"Zoey, now is not the time."

"Buzzkill."

The second time it happens she's not even sure Bobby realizes what's going on.

They're at a photo shoot and Rumi is anxious to leave after being poked and prodded and manipulated like a doll on strings. The only thing that makes the entire process easier is having Zoey and Mira right beside her. There is always a kiss on her cheek between shutters of the camera, firm hands along her spine or the back of her neck during switches in position and most grounding of all warm fingers in direct contact with her skin outside the camera's notice.

The only moments they truly get to themselves during the photo shoot is when they're changing.

"I think I might take this home," Zoey says as buttons the sleeveless vest left hanging for her. It only has four golden buttons to hold it closed and it leaves much of her chest and a strip of skin of her belly on display. Not to mention the sculpted muscles of her arms. "Doesn't it look good?"

Rumi's hands reach for the curve of her shoulders, flirting down the firm press of muscle because she just can't help herself. "Yeah," she says along a breathy exhale, still letting her fingers run down the span of Zoey's arms. Rumi thinks it's criminal for Zoey to look as good as she always does. It doesn't matter what the occasion is—award shows, interviews, grocery trips, late night runs for Rumi's sweet tooth—she always stuns Rumi a little speechless. It's mostly the dichotomy of how soft and sweet Zoey looks when Rumi is acutely aware of the power in her body.

Zoey's smile turns wicked in an instant. She looks up at Rumi with a flush brewing along the apples of her cheeks but not an ounce of shame in sight. "Don't look at me like that," she warns with absolutely no bite in her voice. "Definitely not when you're half naked." Her eyes run a pointed glance along Rumi's body and the desire is so evident on her face it makes Rumi's scars tremble and spark with soft purple light.

Rumi is only in a pair of boy shorts and a bra that accentuates her chest, having stripped the moment they'd closed the paper shade curtain behind them. The skirt and bralette she's supposed to be slipping in to next is still on it's hanger behind her.

"Makes me want to touch you too," Zoey whispers with a salacious lick of her lips. She palms at Rumi's waist, drawing her closer with very little effort and Rumi is leaning down to kiss her without a second thought. She craves every kiss and every more than friendly touch they have to bestow upon her more than she will ever admit. She thinks somehow they know anyway. It was making up for lost time as much as it was to quell the incessant need burning inside of her these days.

Zoey lets out a delighted hum the moment their lips connect. She smooths her hands over Rumi's lower back, nails scratching pleasantly at the dip of Rumi's spine but her kiss stays slow and languid even when Rumi swipes her tongue at the seam of Zoey's lips.

Rumi drapes one arm along Zoey's shoulder, the other hand splaying wide over the curve of Zoey's jaw to tilt her head up for better access. She sighs the moment Zoey's tongue snakes out to meet her own and then their kiss is morphing into something less than chaste. Especially when Zoey's hands reach down to palm and grope at Rumi's ass instead.

Rumi's throat rumbles in a purr before she can stop herself but it's still loud enough to have Zoey pulling away from her. The sound edges off into a whine of disappointment even though Zoey doesn't move very far.

"Did you want something, baby?" Zoey coos in a cheeky whisper, her lips just brushing against Rumi's. She doesn't give Rumi the chance to respond before she's nipping at Rumi's bottom lip. "We're at work, you know."

Mira's scoffed breath ripples along the back of Rumi's neck. She feels the silky fabric of Mira's shirt against the heated skin of her back not a moment later. "Rumi's greedy, Zo," she declares like it's common knowledge. "Time and place doesn't matter to girls like her, right Rumi? You just want to be touched." Her hands ghost their way down Rumi's bared arms, a tease of the contact Rumi craves and yet it's still enough to have the scars on her body writhing and darkening in color.

Zoey's lips curve into a smile. "Is that true, Rumi? You want me to touch you even though anyone could walk in and hear you? This little curtain is so thin. What if they see you too?" Her hands slide from holding Rumi's ass to raking her nails down the quivering muscles of Rumi's belly.

Mira more than makes up for the loss in contact with the way she molds herself tightly to Rumi's back.

Rumi can hardly think with the heat they bring to her body, with the way her desire collects so quickly to thrum between her legs, with the way she can feel desperation vibrating along her muscles. She doesn't think of the consequences when Zoey's scratched trail finds the band of her panties. She doesn't think of the consequences when Mira's lips finds the bend between her neck and shoulder. She only thinks about the ache between her legs and the knowledge that only Zoey and Mira can quench it.

"Please," Rumi whimpers and she is glad it's Zoey in front of her and not Mira because Zoey's fingers slip inside of her without further prompting. "Fuck," her head falls back against Mira, her thighs quivering at the sudden fullness between her legs.

"You're so wet already, baby," Zoey says in hushed awe. Her wrist twists in search of a better angle as her teeth find the edge of Rumi's jaw. She keeps the curl of her fingers gentle but Rumi knows its only for now. "You must really like the vest," she murmurs cheekily.

Mira lets out a low rumble of laughter but Rumi is distracted from answering when her right hand follows the plane of Rumi's abdomen all the way down to join Zoey. Rumi sucks in a sharp gasp as Mira's long fingers circle over her clit.

"Oh she definitely liked it," Mira teases, her teeth nipping at Rumi's shoulder. If they weren't in the middle of a photo shoot Rumi is sure she wouldn't hesitate to suck a bruise right into Rumi's skin.

Zoey's fingers curl inside her with startling precision and Rumi chokes on her own moan. The pressure is firm against her g spot, the downward push of Zoey's knuckles making her feel the stretch—

"God look at you," Zoey nearly growls, her hand picking up speed between Rumi's legs and Mira syncing up with her like they share the same brain. "Letting me fuck you in public like this, soaking my hand. What did it, baby? Were you thinking about me holding you down again?" Her voice stays low in volume but she slips the words right past Rumi's lips with a slight pant given their proximity.

Rumi is not shy about the moan that falls out of her mouth. The memory finds her quickly, has her catapulting to release with the way they touch her body with ease and familiarity, and Zoey is right. She had thought of Zoey's bruising hold on Rumi's wrists held against her lower back, the unflinching weight of her palm between Rumi's shoulder blades as she pinned Rumi to the mattress and fucked her strap on so deep Rumi could feel it in her chest.

The way Zoey panted in her ear, the way she used Rumi's body to get off—

"I'm gonna come," Rumi wheezes abruptly, her scars glowing hot in warning and she watches with bated breath as Zoey's smile sharpens into something smug, her lips parting like she's going to speak until—

"Girls! What is taking so long? Are we having a wardrobe malfunction? We have to get this photo shoot finished up in the next hour or it'll put us behind schedule—"

Bobby's voice breaks through the haze of Rumi's arousal and Zoey looks particularly sympathetic as she slows her hand between Rumi's legs and starts to back away like she is going to pull out.

Rumi holds fast to her wrist in an action that surprises all three of them.

Zoey's brow raises in question and Rumi can feel the way Mira's holding her breath as her fingertips stay pressed against Rumi's clit.

"Don't stop," Rumi whispers almost inaudibly, "I'm so close—" She could practically feel her walls quivering in anticipation.

Zoey resumes her thrusting between Rumi's legs but her pacing stays agonizingly slow, keeps Rumi teetering right on the edge. Her voice is particularly clear as she calls out to Bobby, "Sorry Bobby! We did have a minor malfunction but we're almost done!"

"Oh good! We have the interview portion after and then a long ride to—"

Rumi filters his voice out with the way her heart pounds in her ears. Its made all the more easier to ignore when Mira's lips find the shell of her ear.

"She has to fuck you slow," Mira murmurs hotly. "Otherwise he'd hear how desperate you are for her."

Rumi's breath hitches, her center clamping down tight enough around Zoey's fingers to catch Zoey's attention. The rakish grin Zoey sends her only brings her closer to orgasm.

Bobby continues to ramble on about their tight schedule until even Mira loses her patience.

Mira sucks her teeth loudly and Bobby falls silent. "Beat it, Bobby. We're busy." She punctuates her words with a hard circle of Rumi's clit and Rumi's eyes nearly cross in pleasure.

"Oh!" There is a pointed silence from Bobby before he utters a softer, "Oh." There is the audible sound of him backpedaling back the way he came. "Right—okay—well—uhm—hurry up please?" He practically squeaks and then they are left in silence.

"Out of time, baby," Zoey murmurs in slight disappointment. "You gotta come for us now." She speeds up again, fucking Rumi at full speed and swallowing up the crescendo of Rumi's whimpers with her mouth.

"Yeah, come on, baby. Show Zoey how good she fucks you," Mira chimes in, her tight circles on Rumi's clit do not change pace or pressure and Rumi's gut tightens and tightens until—

Rumi's scars pulse as she comes and her body undulates in waves as her orgasm crests over her. Mira holds up all of her weight and Zoey kisses her trembling lips until Rumi comes back to herself.

The relief is bone deep but so is the affection.

"Love you," Rumi just barely manages to rumble out.

Mira's lips find her temple at the same time Zoey's find her cheek. "We love you too, Rumi," Mira says around a contented sigh.

"So much," Zoey adds on in a breathless murmur.

Zoey and Mira help her dress with soft smiles and gentle hands and Rumi floats on a cloud the rest of their photo shoot. The photographer makes special note of Rumi's loose posturing and Rumi pretends she doesn't see Bobby blushing bright red. He never utters a peep and Rumi is eternally grateful.

The third time it happens its just Rumi and Mira.

Despite Rumi trying her very hardest to master all of Mira's wonderful choreography, sometimes it just does not stick. They spend two hours practicing as a trio in the studio before Zoey begs Mira to set her free. She puts on her best puppy dog eyes and promises to blow Mira until she's hoarse if it means she gets to go free.

Mira agrees on the condition Zoey makes them dinner and the loaded exchange between them makes Rumi feel all of two feet tall. She doesn't mean to be so god awful at dancing and when she tells Mira she is fine with practicing alone Mira stares at her like she's grown five heads and makes Rumi run through the choreography again. She can't stop thinking about the wasted time as she starts up the moves again. They get so few days free as is. Mira should spend it with Zoey. Rumi doesn't deserve—

"Hello, earth to Rumi? Did you hear anything I just said?" Mira's face floods with indignation when Rumi's eyes fall on her again with what she imagines is an impressive impression of a deer in headlights.

"Sorry," Rumi says immediately, shame and guilt whirling hot in her belly. "Sorry, I was just thinking—"

"I don't want you to think," Mira cuts in, her eyes sharp and calculating in a way that makes Rumi feel like her flesh has been peeled back to display what's beneath. "I want you to do," she says and Rumi nods her head quickly in obeyance, eager to soothe the slight of not listening. It was typical of her to run through the endless fountain of patience Mira only had for her. It was unfair really that she was taking all of Mira's time all because—

"Rumi," Mira practically growls in warning. "What did I just say?"

"Sorry, sorry," Rumi yelps as she repositions back to the starting sequence of the choreography. She exhales a shaky breath and tries not to hate the reflection staring back at her in the studio mirrors. "I'll be better," she promises.

Mira's face contorts into confusion but she must see that Rumi is actually ready to try again so she presses the button on her watch to play the music from the studio speakers.

Rumi tries to run through the choreography again, her eyes fixated on herself in the mirror and the startling lack of fluidity in her own movements. She doesn't move in a sensual slither like Mira or even an energetic bounce like Zoey and the feeling of wrong, wrong, wrong is so sharp she stumbles the next series of steps. The frustration bubbles so hotly she feels her hands shake and the scars on her body writhe in a frenzy as they begin to redden.

The music cuts off abruptly.

"Okay stop," Mira calls out sharply and Rumi keeps her gaze steadfastly fixed to the ground to hide the well of frustrated tears brimming her eyes. She watches Mira's dance sneakers come into her line of sight, the smooth bare skin of her legs quick to follow. Rumi's breath hitches when gentle fingers grip her chin to tug her face up. "What's wrong?" Mira asks in a voice so soft Rumi feels her lower lip tremble.

Rumi sucks in a deep breath to steady herself and lets her gaze fall somewhere over Mira's shoulder. She is afraid to look at the disappointment on Mira's face. She is afraid to see annoyance or disgust or the gut wrenching realization that Rumi is not perfect enough. "I'm just not doing it right," she says brusquely. "But I'll get it—it's just—I can make it look better, I swear, I just need a little bit more practice—"

"Rumi," Mira cuts off firmly. "Look at me."

There is a pregnant pause where Rumi considers not obeying and Mira's grip on her chin tightens. Eventually she drags her teary gaze back to Mira's face. She is both relieved and surprised at the understanding staring back at her.

"You need to relax," Mira tells her softly but unyielding. "You know all of the moves but you're getting in your head about it." Her eyes bounce between Rumi's for a beat before her face hardens like she's made up her mind about something. She steps away from Rumi entirely and Rumi lets out a startled gasp at the sudden loss of contact. She thinks for a second that Mira is going to leave, that she has finally seen Rumi for the imperfect mess that she is, except—

"Relax," Mira stresses again but she doesn't bat an eye as she meets Rumi's frantic bid for connection halfway. She allows her hand to be captured in both of Rumi's and even squeezes Rumi's hand in reassurance but she steps back again when Rumi takes two shaky steps towards her. "I'm not going anywhere, baby," she tells Rumi softly. "But I want you to try it again. With your eyes closed this time."

Rumi blinks rapidly to clear the panic in her own brain, focuses on the softness in Mira's voice and the pet name that oozes with quiet comfort. "What?"

Mira squeezes her hand again. "You keep focusing on how it looks and not how it feels," she says like that is the perfect explanation for why Rumi suddenly has no rhythm and doesn't move as good as her girlfriends. "We've fucked the stick out of your ass by now," she says in complete seriousness. "It's a brain and body disconnect."

Rumi stares at her for a long moment but Mira doesn't budge. "You want me to close my eyes while I dance?" she repeats dubiously. "How will I see the marks?"

"Rumi," Mira drawls with a half hearted roll of her eyes. She withdraws her hand from Rumi's so she can place her balled fists against her hips. "Are you the world renowned choreographer?" she asks with a raised brow and when Rumi stays stubbornly silent her lips curve into a smirk. "Didn't think so. You usually don't question me this much. Do I have to get you naked so you'll listen?"

Rumi's scars flare a bright mix of purple and pink before they settle back into her normal translucent sheen. "No," she answers balefully.

Mira's smirk deepens. "Run through the choreography again, Rumi. Eyes closed. Don't peek either." She reaches for her watch once again and Rumi rushes to get back to the starting position.

The second the music starts Rumi tries to run through the choreography again. It's a little disorienting with her eyes closed and she's sure she is way outside the margins but she at least doesn't stumble. Her body still feels incredibly stiff and she's sure the sway and dip of her hips is nowhere near as hot as Mira's—

The music cuts off abruptly again and Rumi squints one eye open.

Mira is staring at her with narrowed eyes, her hands on her hips again. "How did that feel?"

"Ridiculous," Rumi answers immediately.

Mira's lips twitch briefly in amusement. She heaves a huge sigh, like she is remarkably put out and the only reason Rumi doesn't burst into tears is because of the playful grin on Mira's face. "Guess I'll have to do a more hands on approach." The playful grin morphs into something entirely too predatory for the way Rumi actually needs to learn this choreography but she is powerless to stop Mira from stalking towards her anyway.

"Mira," Rumi murmurs when Mira steps up behind her and grabs Rumi by the hips. The touch is Pavlovian in nature and Rumi feels the beginning stirrings of arousal when Mira pulls their bodies flush together. "This isn't going to help."

"It will if you can keep your head out of the gutter," Mira says easily but Rumi can see the smirk on her lips and the devious delight shimmering in Mira's eyes from the mirrored reflection. "Just do what I tell you." Her lips press a lingering kiss right behind Rumi's ear. "You're very good at following instructions when you want to."

Rumi feels her pulse quicken, her throat bobbing around a harsh swallow as a slew of memories rush to the forefront of her mind of her following instructions. She tries to keep her focus on the choreography but her mind runs away from her. Maybe the faster she learns it the faster they can meet Zoey at home and hopefully get each other naked.

Mira manipulates her hips with her hands, mimics the choreography with her body pressed up against Rumi's back like a second skin, and Rumi forgets all about the task at hand. Especially with the way Mira's breath puffs against the nape of her neck and the sweat shined skin of her shoulders.

"There you go," Mira practically purrs. Her hands leave Rumi's hips in favor of sliding along her ribcage to settle right below Rumi's breasts. It makes her breath hitch in her chest but Mira keeps counting out the steps like everything is normal. Her hands shift upward to cup two handfuls of Rumi's chest.

Rumi can't really be blamed when her steps falter once again.

Mira tuts but the smirk on her lips is entirely triumphant. "Guess I'll have to show you how it feels."

Rumi doesn't get a chance to be confused on what that means before Mira is tugging Rumi around to face her. Her hands find Rumi's shoulders and apply pressure downwards but Rumi still doesn't get it until Mira commands, "Sit."

Rumi's legs fold beneath her until she is dropping to her knees in familiar ease. Her hands splay wide over Mira's belly, her head tilting back as she awaits her next instruction. Mira's palm cups Rumi's cheek with aching softness and Rumi feels an explosion of warmth head to toe.

"As much as I love you on your knees," Mira murmurs with a familiar rasp in her throat. Her thumb swipes just below Rumi's lower lip affectionately. "I meant sit flat on your ass."

Rumi blinks and it's only a small delay before she's sinking the rest of the way down onto the studio mats until she is criss cross applesauce. Her hands fall into her lap as she once again looks back up at Mira for instruction. She is rewarded with an affectionate card through her hair before Mira's hands get busy with something else altogether.

Rumi watches with bated breath as Mira pulls her shorts down her legs with smooth easy movements like she has all the time in the world, like stripping this far down is common place in her studio. She plants her feet on either side of Rumi's hips and then lowers herself down in one fluid motion.

Mira's long arms bracket over Rumi's shoulders as she straddles her lap like it was made just for her and Rumi feels herself dampen in anticipation. Her hands flutter over Mira's thighs, her fingers digging into the supple flesh and dragging all the way up to Mira's hips.

"I think you need a more tactile approach," Mira's voice is teasing as she ducks her head low enough to paint her words across Rumi's lips. "Something with visual too."

Rumi swallows thickly as her scars squirm along her skin and begin to glow a darker purple. "Whatever you think is best," she manages to get free of her lips. She offers Mira a lopsided smile, squeezes at her hips once as she says, "You're the dance instructor."

Mira's lips part into an amused grin before she's fisting both hands in Rumi's hair and kissing the air right out of Rumi's lungs. There is no misreading what Mira is after and Rumi is all too happy to oblige her. She groans under the assault of Mira's mouth, feels the thrum of arousal beating to life between her legs, and just when she's really getting into it— Mira pulls away.

Rumi isn't even sorry about chasing after her lips. Mira, however, keeps her distance. She tuts at Rumi playfully but Rumi can see the darkened desire in her eyes too.

"I'm still teaching, horn dog," Mira says like she is not straddling Rumi's lap in just her panties. Rumi is hardly one to go against her word. "I'm going to guide you again," she tells Rumi with relish. "Maybe if you feel it this way, you'll finally get it."

Rumi no longer cares about choreography with the desire coursing in her veins and the solid weight of Mira in her lap but she knows better than to say so out loud.

Mira's fingertips flutter down the sides of Rumi's neck, ghost over the stiff peaks of Rumi's nipples straining against her thin sports bra and even thinner tank top and further still down Rumi's quivering belly. She jumps her touch to Rumi's forearms and trails them all the way to the back of Rumi's palm until she is yanking Rumi's dominant hand between them.

Rumi only watches with poorly concealed anticipation as her scars darken by the second.

"Fingers," Mira commands and Rumi extends her pointer and middle finger immediately. "Good girl," Mira coos and Rumi feels a hot flush of pleasure at the praise. It only serves to further lock her in to the task at hand. She tries her very best to keep her breathing steady but she loses the battle in the next breath when Mira uses her free hand to pull her own panties to the side.

The heat that Rumi feels at the tip of her fingers has her letting out an audible groan but she keeps her entire body still. Mira's hips drag in an arduous thrust against Rumi's fingers, coating them in an instant with an obscene amount of wetness. The idea that Mira finds this much interest in her, that Mira gets just as wet from Rumi as Rumi does for Mira has a shiver racing down her spine.

"You're so wet," Rumi breathes out, her eyes transfixed on where they are almost connected together. It's been too long since the last time Rumi has been able to touch her like this and suddenly she wants nothing more than to sink her fingers as deep as Mira will let her.

Mira huffs out a little laugh. "There you are," she murmurs in delight. "I'm glad you're finally paying attention." She presses her hips into Rumi's fingers enough to have her breath hitching and her fingers tighten to almost bruising on Rumi's wrist to keep her hand in place.

Rumi lets out a low whine as Mira fucks herself back and forth but never quite taking all Rumi has to offer her. Mira's hand not holding Rumi's wrist finds its way back to Rumi's shoulder and Rumi is flushed all over when she realizes it's to help keep Mira balanced.

Rumi is most in tune with her body in moments like these—when she is helping along Mira and Zoey's pleasure, when she is defending them with her flesh and bones, when she is keeping them safe and whole and loved.

Mira readjusts her grip on Rumi's wrist, shifting the angle so that the next roll of her hips has her taking Rumi's fingers all the way to the knuckle. The moan that falls from Mira's lips—always so quiet but still so deeply felt—has Rumi breathing a little harder despite not doing anything strenuous.

Mira grinds against Rumi's fingers in a slow back and forth motion that has her head lulling back and a breathless sigh falling from her lips. "Oh baby," she groans on a particularly forceful forward press that has Rumi's digits completely submerged.

Rumi squirms beneath her, desperate to get closer to coax out more pleasure in the way she has learned how but the second she tries to move Mira's head lifts and she glares at Rumi in warning.

"No," Mira breathes out. "Stay still. You're learning remember?"

"Mira—"

"Uh uh," Mira cuts in immediately. This time she circles her hips slowly in Rumi's lap and renders Rumi quiet. "You're watching and feeling," she reminds and her fingers clamp a little tighter on Rumi's shoulder as she circles her hips once more before going back to rocking herself against Rumi's hand.

Mira keeps her pacing slow and controlled as she fucks herself back and forth astride Rumi's body but somehow it's Rumi who pants like a dog beneath her. She loses track of time and space and anything that is not Mira's body. She thinks distantly that this might have been Mira's entire point.

"Do you feel me, Rumi?" Mira murmurs in a breathless rasp. She accentuates the next roll of her hips pointedly and stutters out her next breath because of it. Rumi feels every bit of her from the rippling fountain of heat at Rumi's fingertips to the coil and flex of Mira's thighs bracketing her own.

Rumi is sure she's leaving a puddle on studio mats because of how much she feels Mira.

She manages to bobble her head in a nod, truly transfixed on the way Mira's hips move in her lap. The grip on her wrist stays tight and Rumi knows it will be sore tomorrow but it hardly matters with the way she can see Mira leaking down her fingers on every backward movement. She can feel the slippery collection of warmth along her palm meeting cool air.

Mira's fingers dig into Rumi's shoulders sharp enough to be felt even through Rumi's scars. "Use your words," she demands and when Rumi looks up into Mira's face she can see the effects of the glacial pacing playing out. The strain is evident with the way her lips are parted open and trembling, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks, and her neck lulling back every so often like she can no longer fight the way Rumi is making her feel.

"Yes," Rumi answers in a hiss. "I feel you," she answers hoarsely and then because she wants to make Mira feel as good as she always makes Rumi she curls her fingers until Mira is letting out a small tremulous moan.

"You're gonna make me come, baby," Mira gasps around her next breath. She leans her forehead against Rumi's, finally releases her bruising grip on Rumi's wrist to instead fist her hand in Rumi's hair and its this letting go of the proverbial reigns that has Rumi shining the brightest. "Rumi."

Rumi can see the way her scars glow in purple light, pulsing along to the rhythmic tightening around her fingers, and she wants nothing more than to have Mira fall apart in her lap. "Please, Mira," she begs wantonly. "Let me see you."

Mira's hips stutter, her eyes squeezing shut and her forehead pressing harder against Rumi's. She pants against Rumi's mouth and Rumi can almost taste her orgasm—

"Hey! Mira! Can you sign this— Oh my god!"

Bobby's voice is a harsh slice through the thick tension of the moment and Rumi winces when Mira lets out a low growl and stiffens to a stop in Rumi's lap. Rumi watches with baited breath as Mira leans back on her lap, her chest still heaving from the stolen orgasm and murder all over her face because of it.

Mira pulls Rumi's fingers out of her slowly, her breath catching once and her eyes sinking shut when Rumi's fingers are finally free of her. The anger on her face only grows when she reopens her eyes.

Rumi almost feels bad for Bobby. Almost.

Mira rises from Rumi's lap slowly, the length of her shirt covering anything indecent but Rumi catches the glimmer of slickness between her thighs and almost swallows her own tongue. Mira stalks her way towards Bobby without a single tremble in her steps and Rumi is truly in awe of her composure.

Bobby looks two steps away from pissing his pants when Mira finally makes it to him. His lips part like he is going to say something but it falls away in a squeak when Mira snatches the clipboard from his hand. There is only the sound of pen scratching on paper and the thump of the clipboard as Mira slaps back against his chest.

"I'd start knocking if I were you, Bobby," Mira says in blatant annoyance. "Next time I'm not going to stop."

Rumi can hear the way he swallows thickly.

"Right, of course, sorry girls," Bobby mutters in embarrassment and then he's high tailing it back out of the studio.

Mira is motionless as she watches him before she turns back to Rumi. She runs both hands through her hair and stares back at Rumi balefully. "We're leaving," she declares. She is as close to outright pouting as Rumi has ever seen her and it makes Rumi's heart clench fondly in her chest.

"Okay," Rumi agrees easily because who is she deny Mira anything.

The next time they run through the choreography all Rumi can think about is the sensual grind of Mira's hips in her lap and it's all it takes to get Rumi out of her head and moving in sync.

The fourth time it happens Rumi is too far gone to care.

The teasing starts while they're getting ready for their night out.

They're on their way to a last minute club collab because Zoey accidentally posts a candid picture of Rumi on their date night out. The photo is mostly innocent with Rumi blowing the camera—Mira actually because the photo is for her— a kiss but the giant and empty margarita glass on the table is decidedly less so. Especially when Zoey doubles down on the backlash by commenting about how girls just want to have fun.

Rumi isn't sure how Bobby pulls it off but they are able to spin it as a reveal for a brand new cocktail in their honor like it was a planned post all along and not because Rumi got drunk at dinner to be fucked later by Zoey's strap.

"I can't believe we're missing couch time for this," Zoey pouts as she fastens her jewelry like she is not directly responsible for this chain of events. She is somehow the first one ready and Rumi plans to fully use it to her advantage with the way she can't decide on an outfit.

"It's literally your fault," Mira drawls from where she is finishing up her makeup at Rumi's vanity.

Zoey pouts miraculously but doesn't deny her claim. "Rumi just looked so cute," she sighs in abject fondness. "She got that little gleam in her eyes like she does right before she's about to start begging."

Rumi blinks owlishly. "Excuse me?"

Mira hums a noise in sympathetic agreement. "Should have waited until later to post it. Bobby's going to lock you out of your accounts," she says, voice exceptionally monotone in concentration.

Zoey lets out a startled gasp. "Mira, don't joke!"

"What do you mean 'little gleam'?" Rumi demands to know but she is promptly ignored as Mira finishes her makeup and stands from the vanity desk. She looks particularly handsome in her loose black slacks and crisp white button up and Rumi is having a hard time keeping her thoughts innocent. It's partially why she isn't dressed yet herself.

"I'm serious," Mira says with an amused smirk and Rumi feels a pout worm its way across her lips when Mira's eyes fall on Zoey and not her. She gets it, however, because the short leather skirt and matching halter top adorning Zoey's body keeps holding her eye too.

Zoey only grumbles a little more as she clips her second golden hoop into her ear. "At least it wasn't a nude," she says with an impish grin in Rumi's direction.

Rumi's cheeks flare with heat, her arms coming out to cross over her chest in indignation at the reminder. "It was one time," she whines faintly and when Zoey's smile only widens Rumi's pout only deepens. "You said you wouldn't bring it up again."

Mira tuts in sympathy as she reaches for Rumi's hips but the humor still laces her voice. "She's just kidding," she says around a smirk. She presses a kiss to Rumi's bared shoulder just to the right of her bra strap. "Right, Zoey?"

Zoey nods seriously. She holds up two fingers and says, "Scouts honor," like that is meant to mean something to them.

"Let's get you dressed," Mira murmurs with her mouth still pressed warmly to Rumi's shoulder. "We have a surprise for you."

"We do? Oh! Yes!" Zoey's smile morphs from confused to lecherous so quickly that Rumi feels her pulse quicken. She steps up close to Rumi, her fingers tickling along Rumi's exposed belly before she leans up to press a chaste kiss to Rumi's lips. "I know the perfect thing for you to wear," she says with a winning smile, kissing Rumi quickly again before she's darting away.

Rumi makes to follow her on instinct but Mira's hands tighten around her hips to draw Rumi backwards.

"Don't you want to know what your surprise is?" Mira asks and Rumi doesn't have to see her face to know she is smirking.

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of the surprise," Rumi drawls but she leans further into the cradle of Mira's arms anyway, presses her hips back in a cheeky little move that only lets her feel—

Mira lets out a husky laugh as Rumi gasps audibly. "Trust me," she tells Rumi impishly, her teeth nipping at Rumi's patterned shoulder as she rolls her hips against Rumi's ass pointedly. The firm press of silicone jutting from Mira's hips is familiar but this is hardly their date night or Mira teasing with it beneath her sweat pants in the comfort of their home. They are working tonight for all intents and purposes and somehow that excites Rumi more. "It's much better for me if you know it's there all night," Mira says with smug satisfaction.

"Mira," Rumi exhales her name like she wants to be reprimanding but it falls flat with the way she presses further into Mira's hips. "—which one is it?"

Mira laughs a little deeper, her hands sliding from Rumi's hips to cup low against her belly. Rumi clutches at them like they're the only thing keeping her steady. "It's your favorite," she tells Rumi easily. "Because I'm going to make you beg for it before the night is up."

Rumi feels the familiar tickle that precedes her patterns glowing visibly. She is unsurprised to see the purple whirling along her markings the longer Mira breathes steadily into her ear and holds Rumi against the bulge of her strap on beneath her pants. She struggles not to squirm against her, not to bend herself over—even though she really, really wants to.

Because that would be begging and what if Rumi—

"What if I don't want to beg?" Rumi fires back after a delayed beat.

Mira makes a noise of mild intrigue as she tightens her hold on Rumi's waist. "Even better," she says with clear relish.

Zoey returns to them not a full heartbeat later, a dress folded over one arm and a pair of chunky heels dangling from her fingertips. She eyes the proximity between them with a knowing look. "Did she figure out her surprise?" She asks in utter delight.

Rumi glares at her balefully and Zoey's smile only widens. She holds up the dress and heels a little higher, "Come on, baby, lets get you dressed."

Thirty tension filled minutes later, Rumi is dressed in a snug little black dress that leaves very little to the imagination but seems to be particularly calculated on Zoey's part. The confirmation of this comes when Mira tugs the dress up to her hips with an easy yank and a hum of approval.

"Easy access," Mira drawls with a smirk. "Nice."

Rumi slaps her hands away with a half hearted glare and an even less firm, "No access for you."

Mira only smiles smugly as she fits her hands into her pockets.

Zoey tugs Rumi's dress back into place with a soft hands and an even softer smile. "What about me?" She asks sweetly and despite the steadfast decision of not begging tonight Rumi melts under the earnestness on Zoey's face.

Rumi kisses her because she can't help herself. "Maybe," Rumi murmurs when their lips part, her thumb swiping just beneath Zoey's lower lip to catch any lipstick smears. She feels a little pocket of warmth bloom in her chest at the faint dusting of pink that crowds over Zoey's cheeks.

They walk hand in hand in hand as they head to the ground floor of their apartment building to wait for their fast approaching driver. Mira squeezes Rumi's hand in a quick pulse to get her attention while the limo pulls in front of them and when Rumi looks up at her Mira smiles at her almost shyly.

"You look really pretty, Rumi," Mira says genuinely and then she turns her head to press a kiss to Zoey's temple. "You too, Zo." She sighs almost inaudibly, content in a way she won't ever really say out loud with words but Rumi still feels it deep in the marrow of her bones. It was a wonder how much she could see it now that she wasn't focused on her own shame and secrets.

Zoey lets out a small laugh, flustered and shy as she yanks playfully at her and Mira's conjoined hands. "You just want someone to suck your strap later," she says in fond exasperation but Rumi can see the way she bats her lashes coquettishly.

Mira lets out a bark of laughter, her lips curving into a smirk as she says, "Oh baby someone was going to anyway." The smug knowing-ness is back in an instant and Rumi only huffs as she rolls her eyes.

They settle into the limo with relative ease. Rumi ducks in first, Mira following in after her to take the middle seat and Zoey bringing up their rear as she makes conversation with their driver until they are pushing the bounds on punctuality. Eventually they are shut in safely and Rumi is quick to fall under the cradle of Mira's arm while Zoey contents herself with curling around Mira's bicep and holding Rumi's hand over Mira's lap.

She can almost pretend it's another work event—especially when Zoey goes on a spiel about the DJ of the club and all the songs she hopes to hear—except Rumi can see the faint outline—feel it against the sides of her palm— in Mira's loosened slacks and the knowledge of it settles warmly in the pit of her belly.

They all shift into work mode once they finally get to the club. Despite keeping the exact bar location under wraps there are still a wall of fans gathered around. Rumi doesn't think she'll ever get used to the prickle of nervousness with all the eyes on her especially now that her patterns are on display.

"It'll be fun," Zoey says like she is trying to hype herself up too as she watches the flashes outside the tinted limo windows. "Just a few drinks, a couple dances and some photos and then we can come home."

"Yeah," Mira agrees softly. "And then it'll just be us and the couch."

It's just like any other contractual appearance—photos, speeches, and promotional content— until it isn't.

They tease her every chance they get until Rumi's patterns are stuck a deep whirling purple and her cheeks are permanently flushed. She is thankful for the dark lights of the club mostly hiding it away. There is not a moment that passes where there aren't fingers skating along the back of her neck or lower back or subtle caresses of her face under the guise of hair and make up checks.

By the time Bobby is cutting them loose, Rumi feels like she is boiling from the inside out. Bobby tells them to have fun as he disappears into the nightlife with two of their signature cocktails in either fist and Mira seems to take this as a challenge.

Rumi recognizes her benign smile for exactly what it is. A teasing knowing-ness that settles low in Rumi's belly. Despite wanting whatever Mira is willing to dole out, a bigger part of her wants to make Mira work for it.

"Do you want to dance with me, Rumi?" Mira asks innocently, like she doesn't plan on pressing Rumi's favorite strap on up against her ass with crowds of people around them until Rumi is at her mercy.

Zoey laughs around the straw of her cocktail. She darts her eyes between the two of them like she is watching a tennis match, like she is not committed to either side just yet even with knowing Mira's plans and that's all Rumi needs to make her decision.

Maybe it was time to give them both a dose of their own medicine.

"Yeah I want to dance," Rumi says, smiling innocently as she steps closer to Mira. She lays her hand flat against Mira's chest, fingertips brushing against the open lapel of the crisp white dress shirt beneath but ultimately pushes Mira back a few steps.

Mira's smug smile melts away, her brows drawing together in confusion as Rumi slides past her. "What are you—"

Rumi lets her fingers circle around Zoey's wrist, an exceptionally soft smile on her lips as she asks, "Dance with me?"

Zoey's finger points at herself slowly, cheeks darkening at the apples and her eyes widening in a pleased kind of surprise. "You wanna dance with me?"

Rumi nods and sweetens her smile. "Please?"

Zoey takes a long sip of her drink as she nods quickly. She follows after Rumi, leaning up to kiss Mira on the cheek and hand her her drink. "Hold this for me, Mir?"

Mira only grunts as she accepts the drink robotically.

Rumi guides Zoey to the dance floor, fully aware of the way Mira is watching them like a hawk. The beat blasting through the speakers is easy to pick up on and Zoey seems content to let Rumi lead. She molds herself up against Zoey's back and lets the bodies around them melt away until it's just her and Zoey.

The DJ is good, Rumi decides, because they play a range of songs that all but give permission for the two of them to stay pressed together. She keeps her arms slung over Zoey's waist, her chin tucked against Zoey's shoulder and revels in the way Zoey leans back into her. Rumi loves them in the same all encompassing kind of way but for wildly different reasons. With Zoey in her arms, Rumi feels like she stands her tallest. With Zoey in her arms, she feels like she is at her strongest. There is something about the way she fits so completely against Rumi's chest that makes Rumi feel a little bit more dangerous, like she will draw blood and sever limbs if someone dared to take Zoey away.

"Rumi," Zoey's laugh is breathless as it creeps up the shell of Rumi's ear. Her head leans heavily against Rumi's shoulder like there is no place she'd rather be. "You're squeezing too tight, baby." She brings her hand down tap pointedly along Rumi's coiled forearms.

Rumi relaxes her arms as she blanches. "Sorry—" she says immediately. A faint pink creeps along the edges of the soft purple of her patterns as shame curdles deep in her belly.

Zoey spins in her arms now that she is able to and the smile on her face is hardly perturbed. She brackets her arms over Rumi's shoulders and pulls Rumi closer to her face. "Don't be sorry. I like when you grab me like that," she says with an impish little smile. "But I want to dance for you."

Rumi blinks as the pink fades away and the purple of her scars thrums with renewed vigor. "Oh?"

Zoey laughs again, amused and fond as she brushes her nose up against Rumi's. "Yeah, baby," she says, her words sighing over Rumi's lips like she wants Rumi to taste the desire directly from her mouth. It's as close as they'll come to kissing in public and Rumi wishes they were in the safety of their home already. "We're putting on a show, aren't we?"

Rumi lets out a low noise not to dissimilar to a trill. It takes her a second to peel her eyes away from Zoey's lips long enough to register what she is saying. "Huh? Oh—right, yeah." She darts her eyes over Zoey's head, finds Mira still sitting in their section watching them openly. She cuts quite the image with the way her arm is tossed over the back of the couch and her legs are spread at the knee. To an outside view Mira might seem calm, cool and collected—detached even—but Rumi can see the razor eyed focus even from this far away. She is honed in on their every movement and yet she doesn't approach or beckon them over, doesn't huff and puff and drag them from the dance floor.

"So lets put on a show," Zoey says and really who is Rumi to deny her.

They dance as close to obscene as they can with all the cameras watching them and even though Rumi is intent on giving Mira a dose of her own medicine, she gets lost in the sensation of Zoey's body against her own. She loses the upper hand to her own desires with the sinful slither of Zoey's movements but because it's Zoey she doesn't even rub it in Rumi's face.

In fact, Zoey is merciful enough to offer Rumi a way out.

She curls a hand around the back of Rumi's neck to drag her down so she can reach. Her breath is hot as she speaks directly into Rumi's ear, goosebumps erupting all over Rumi's body as a result. "You know I'd never make you beg, right Rumi?" The familiar rasp in her voice has Rumi's breath stuttering in her chest. It's entirely untrue because Zoey has made her beg on more than one occasion but she is more lax in the way she will accept it.

Mira will wait until she is thrashing and in tears no matter what Rumi says. Zoey will give her whatever she desires as long as she says please.

"We could find a bathroom," Zoey continues on, her lips ghosting against the ridges of Rumi's ear now. Her nails sink briefly into the damp skin of Rumi's neck, just below the edge of her hairline. "I'd do whatever you want," she murmurs hotly. "Until she catches up anyway." There is a touch of humor to lace her words because she knows like Rumi does that Mira is still watching them.

Rumi chances a look over at their section. She finds Mira momentarily distracted as she is pulled into a conversation with a club promoter and she certainly looks all the more annoyed for it. She sits up straight, the line of her jaw cutting and her fingers tapping impatiently against her knee. If there were ever a time to catch her unaware it would be now.

Zoey giggles as Rumi drags her from the dance floor in a hurry. The crowd parts for them like water and Rumi offers the bouncer guarding the private bathrooms her most innocent smile even as she plans to do debaucherous things once they are away from prying eyes.

Zoey is still giggling when Rumi finds an empty single bathroom and yanks them in. She locks the door behind them and presses Zoey up against the sink with a frantic kind of speed that only serves to deepen the pulse of her patterns. Zoey cups Rumi's cheeks the moment she is pinned and kisses Rumi back with equal vigor. Rumi doesn't spare a thought to the smear of their lipstick this time.

Her hands flutter their way down Zoey's body, unsure of what she wants to touch first but desperate to feel it all the same. She pulls her lips away from Zoey's when the need to breathe grows a little too sharp and she is not surprised when Zoey tilts her chin up and slides sticky lips over her neck instead.

Rumi sighs as she lets her neck lull back, the patterns along her body squirming and bright to reflect the pounding desire between her legs. Her hands work their way up Zoey's barred legs, intent on working up her thighs and hopefully to the heat between her thighs. She is stopped by the tight leather of Zoey's skirt. She paws at it with a faint whine until Zoey is pulling away to laugh.

"So impatient," Zoey sighs fondly. She presses a kiss to Rumi's lips as she guides Rumi's dominant hand to the zip just behind her hip. "Unzip me," she murmurs against Rumi's lips and Rumi yanks the zipper down the run until she can peel Zoey's skirt open like turning the page of a book.

Zoey's thighs are revealed to her immediately and Rumi can already feel her mouth salivating at the idea of sinking to her knees to press her lips to all the smooth skin on display. She traces the pads of her fingers along Zoey's thighs, revels in the way goosebumps follow her touch and Zoey's breath hitches. She scrapes her nails down the path to Zoey's knees, her legs buckling beneath her like her knees are drawn to the floor.

"God Rumi," Zoey groans as she hops up onto the edge of the sink and parts her legs without Rumi even having to ask. She is unsurprised at the damp patch right at the center of Zoey's bright pink underwear. "You don't understand how good you look like this," her sigh is so reverential that Rumi is partially distracted.

Her hands curl around Zoey's thighs, her lips ghosting a kiss at the trembling cord of muscle as she looks back up at Zoey from her knees.

"Like what?" Rumi asks softly.

Zoey's hips twitch as a small moan falls from her lips, "Fuck." She reaches for Rumi's shoulders to tug her closer, one of her palms curling behind Rumi's head. "You're driving me crazy."

Rumi trails her lips up Zoey's thigh, her teeth nipping at silky soft flesh until her nose is pressing up against Zoey's underwear. The heady scent of Zoey fills her nose and the groan that slips from her lips at what is to come ripples along the honmoon.

"Baby," Zoey pleads, her hips pressing upwards again and a faint pressure against the back of Rumi's skull. "You gonna make me beg?" she asks around a breathless little laugh.

Rumi should.

Except she looks up into Zoey's face and sees the pink flush to her cheeks that matches the hue creeping down her throat, the way her lip is bitten between teeth, the way her eyes are dark in desire and fixated on Rumi.

"Would you if I asked you too?" Rumi murmurs as she presses a kiss to Zoey's opposite thigh.

Zoey bobbles her head in a nod quickly. "Yes, yes, whatever you want, Rumi—" and Rumi believes her. She curls her fingers around Zoey's panties and pulls them to the side.

Zoey's breathing only speeds up in anticipation.

The first swipe of her tongue is full and thick with wetness and she is not sure who groans louder. She loses herself between Zoey's legs, in the moans that rip free of Zoey's throat, in the pinprick of nails against her scalp and the heat between Zoey's thighs. There is nothing but Zoey's whimpered praises and the rippling against Rumi's tongue.

She doesn't even realize the door is opening until she hears Mira's voice.

"What the fuck," Mira's voice is thick—from annoyance or from arousal Rumi is too distracted to place—and when Rumi pulls away from the fountain between Zoey's legs Mira is right in the doorway of the bathroom. She steps in quickly, only a little disheveled as she shuts the door behind her but Rumi is positive she locked it herself.

"Did you pick the lock?" Rumi manages to scrape up her throat.

Mira sniffs casually and Rumi watches her fingers flex over a thin metal rod before it's disappearing up her sleeve. "Maybe," she says flatly. Her eyes rake over Rumi briefly before they hone in between Zoey's legs. She flicks her tongue out over her lower lip and reaches for the belt holding up her slacks. "You started without me," she notes and despite the way her jaw is tight she doesn't sound off put.

Zoey lets out a small giggle. "Didn't see that one coming did you?"

Mira glares at her without any heat. "I should have known you would double cross me," she sighs. She gets her belt open as she approaches, is already fingering at the zipper of her slacks as she commands, "Rumi, lift your dress."

Rumi thinks its kind of cute that she thinks she still has the upper hand.

"Say please," Rumi fires back airily, her lips twitching into a smug grin as kisses the inside of Zoey's thigh.

Mira's face moves through a series of emotions too quick to place as she remains stubbornly silent. Her fingers still pinch the button of her slacks but she does not move a muscle.

Rumi is on her knees and yet the power returns to her hand. It's delicious.

Zoey seems to relish it just as much. "Do you want me to show you how, baby?" she coos at Mira sweetly.

Mira's cheek spasms as her eyes dart from Rumi to Zoey. Still she does not utter a word. It's more telling than if she were to speak and Rumi and Zoey both know it.

"Rumi," Zoey sighs along a breathy exhale, her hips bucking to get Rumi's attention once more. "Please, baby, don't leave me hanging." She is unrepentant in her ask because as much as its to tease Mira, there is real desperation in her voice.

Rumi can see the way she is still glistening between her legs, swollen and red where Rumi has already teased her tongue and lips. She decides to reward Zoey's good behavior by leaning in and sucking Zoey's clit back into her mouth.

The reaction is instantaneous. Zoey gasps audibly, her hips pressing up into Rumi's mouth at the same time she presses downward on the back of Rumi's head. Her moans echo off the bathroom walls until Rumi is practically drowning between her legs. There is a faint grunt that joins all the noise but she doesn't dare to pull away from Zoey.

Zoey's voice is strained as she addresses Mira again. "Just say please," she tells Mira, her breath hitching on a moan as Rumi sucks a little harder. "I bet she's so wet, Mira."

Mira lets out an audible groan and Rumi hears the jingling of her belt buckle like she's gotten even closer. "Fuck, okay! Fine, fine, fine!" Her voice is frantic and pitched low, like it forces its way up. "Rumi, baby," she sighs in desperation and finally, finally drops her guard. "Please let me fuck you."

Rumi pulls away from Zoey with a wet suck that has Zoey squealing. She rises from her knees, turning to face Mira just because she wants to engrain the sight in front of her to memory. Mira's cheeks are bright red, the look on her face beseeching. The buckle of her slacks is still undone, her shirt rucked up against her belly to reveal the straps fastened to her hips.

"Please," Mira breathes out again.

Rumi smiles at her sweetly, lifting her hand to curl a finger to beckon Mira forward.

Mira is on her in a second, her hands reaching out to cup Rumi's cheek to lick into her mouth like she is starving. She is not shy about her groan and Rumi is so wet she can feel herself drip down her thighs.

"Fuck me," Zoey practically whimpers. "That's so hot."

Mira withdraws from Rumi then and its with a low growl that she steps closer to Zoey and devours her too. She kisses Zoey in a messy open mouthed kiss that has Zoey panting and squirming against the sink. Rumi agrees that it is very, very hot. Especially when Zoey's hand creeps between her legs to circle fast at her clit.

Mira's fingers wrap themselves around Zoey's throat and Zoey only speeds up her hands. "Fucking tease," she grumbles into Zoey's lips and Zoey only laughs with a breathless hitch. "You gonna come just from me kissing you?"

Zoey's eyes sink shut, her head tilting back like she is in fact going to orgasm just off of Mira's sudden attention. Normally Rumi would watch them in interest but she remembers acutely that the power still resides with her. She curls her hand around Zoey's wrist to still her hand and Mira pulls away from Zoey's mouth at Zoey's disgruntled whine.

"In my mouth," Rumi says softly. "I want you to—"

Zoey practically shoves Mira away from her, her head bobbing in a nod as she babbles, "Yes, okay, please— I don't care just make me come—whatever you want baby—"

Mira lets out a husky laugh as she steps away to let Rumi bend between Zoey's legs once more. She circles around Rumi with a hand trailing down the bend of Rumi's spine as Rumi attaches her mouth to the dripping apex of Zoey's thighs.

She hears Mira's belt buckle hit the floor of the bathroom and only squirms in anticipation as Mira's hands tug her dress up roughly. There is no more teasing when Mira fists her panties aside and shoves the length of her cock into Rumi in one feel swoop. She has no choice but to pull away from Zoey again.

Zoey pets at her head, a small sympathetic noise falling from her lips as Rumi's jaw hinges open. Her lips tremble despite her mouth being open and she grips tight enough to Zoey's thighs to bruise as she is filled to the brim. The throbbing need between her legs only grows more insistent.

Mira's stance shifts, her palms grabbing onto Rumi's waist and it's the only warning she gets before Mira is fucking her. The power in her thrusts has Rumi seeing stars at the corners of her vision and a burning pleasure working up her spine. Her head falls forward at the force and blistering pace Mira sets.

Even Zoey can't help but comment, "Fuck, Mira, don't kill her—"

"She likes it," Mira says breathlessly, her nails digging sharp enough for Rumi to feel beneath the fabric of her dress. "She wants—wants to feel me tomorrow—s'why she was—" Rumi shrieks against a particular hard thrust that has her flooding around Mira's cock, "—fucking teasing. Making me beg."

Rumi would laugh if she wasn't too busy gulping down air.

There is only white noise in her ears, only the heady scent of Zoey in her nose and the power of Mira's thrusting cock between her legs until—

The unlocked door is their undoing again.

"I thought she—I heard her shout and thought—" Bobby's voice is suddenly echoing in the bathroom and when Rumi opens her eyes to gauge why the vigorous fucking has slowed to a crawl, she finds Bobby's bright red face and jaw unhinged in surprise. He makes eye contact with Rumi and seems to go through all seven stages of grief at once.

"Oh she's fine," Mira tells him confidently even through her winded panting. Her cock drags out of Rumi almost to the tip before she's thrusting back in hard enough to punch the air right out of Rumi's lungs. "Tell him Rumi," she cajoles, humor lacing her voice. "Tell him how fine you are." She punctuates her words with another breath stealing thrust.

Rumi is so close she can feel tears stinging the back of her eyes. She doesn't care about Bobby watching. She doesn't care about honoring Mira's command. She only cares about satiating the pounding between her legs.

Zoey's fingers scratch affectionately at Rumi's scalp. "Yeah, tell him, baby," she says around an airy exhale. Despite her encouragement, her hips press upward in a jerky twitch that reminds Rumi of what her mouth is supposed to be doing.

Rumi lets out a low whimper instead. "Please—" She is only vaguely aware of the bathroom door creaking open and heavy bass filling the room before Mira is fucking into her with brutal intensity once more. Her jaw hinges open, her moans and heavy breathing the only thing that remains outside of the obscene squelch between her legs.

"He's gone," Mira grunts. "Rumi, it's time to come, baby, we don't have all day to satisfy your—" her hips press so deep that Rumi feels her in her chest— "slutty little desires."

Rumi comes immediately.

Mira doesn't stop thrusting into her, drawing out every ounce of pleasure Rumi has to give her until Rumi is panting and drooling onto the bathroom floor. She feels her orgasm vibrating through every piece of her body—through the honmoon ley-lines even—and all but sags against against Zoey's lap.

"Rumi," Zoey whines and once again Rumi is reminded about her uncompleted job. She only has enough presence of mind to press a sloppy kiss of apology into Zoey's twitching thigh.

Mira slips out of Rumi slowly and Rumi trembles at the sudden emptiness. "No orgasm for the double agent?" Mira sucks her teeth playfully. "That's just too bad, Zo."

"Mira," Zoey practically growls. "Don't—"

"Don't what, baby?" Mira is gentle as she pulls Rumi's dress back over her hips. She coaxes Rumi into standing and even presses a gentle kiss to Rumi's cheek. She is guided onto the toilet seat to rest her jelly legs and laughs outright at the shimmering cock still jutting between Mira's legs. Her pants are still locked around her ankles.

Zoey claws for Mira's arms, a desperate whine bubbling up her throat. "Don't leave me hanging!"

Mira lets out a bark of laughter but Rumi watches in dazed fascination as Mira slides the still dripping dildo between Zoey's legs. "Fine," she says around a strained voice. "But only because I'm feeling generous."

Their fuck is quick and dirty, both of them already teetering on the edge because of Rumi, and the moment Mira finally pulls free of Zoey the tension in the room fades into bone deep exhaustion. The bathroom is suddenly cool once more and their breathing all steadies as they redress themselves.

"Home?" Zoey calls out, a shakiness on her voice that is teaming with promise. "I could use a bed."

Rumi huffs a laugh of agreement and Mira smiles as she presses a kiss to the corner of Zoey's mouth.

"I'll have Bobby get the limo," Mira murmurs sweetly.

Bobby gives them a lecture the next morning on the importance of discretion and even though Rumi is slightly cowed she can't find it in herself to feel bad with the way she can still feel the phantom press of Mira inside her and the ripple of Zoey around her tongue.

"Of course, Bobby," Zoey says in vehement agreement. "We'll be so, so careful," she chirps easily. "Right guys?"

"So careful," Mira parrots in flat monotone.

Bobby only sighs in mild exasperation. "Rumi?" He prompts but even Rumi can tell he knows its for show more than anything.

Rumi only smiles serenely, "Super careful."

The fifth time it happens Rumi doesn't even register his presence at all.

They are lounging in their hotel room, a successful show under their belt and the adrenaline still rushing in their veins. She can't really be blamed when she climbs into Zoey's lap and kisses her for all she is worth.

Mira is still in their hotel room shower and usually Rumi will wait but the need curling in her belly begs to be soothed. It's a demon sort of need—one that trembles her patterns and pulses them purple in frenzy. She is not even embarrassed about the way she is humping into Zoey's lap like a dog in heat.

"Easy, baby," Zoey murmurs against Rumi's mouth. Her hands are cool as they smooth down Rumi's naked, heated back. Rumi didn't even bother putting on clothes after her shower after seeing Zoey sprawled on their king sized bed. "We have all night." She means it to be soothing but Rumi feels anything but.

Its because they are under a full moon. Its because Rumi is part demon. It colors her insatiable.

The ache between her legs is unbearable, makes her feel hollow from the inside out—

"Zoey," Rumi whines, her hips still jogging against the flat plane of Zoey's belly. The pressure against her clit is only a tease even though it has pleasure zipping up her spine. It only serves to remind her of the emptiness between her legs. "Please."

"Okay," Zoey's throat bobs audibly but her hand works between the two of them. "Okay, Rumi, I got you baby," she promises fervently. It's not the first time Rumi has felt this kind of heat but it is the first time they've dealt with it away from home.

Zoey manages to fit three fingers inside of her and despite the way Rumi bounces against them with all her might, it only serves to drive her further into desperation. She is sweating down her back, her vision hazy and her belly churning and still—

"More—"

Zoey lets out a low grunt but she somehow manages to fit four fingers. It does nothing to help Rumi along. It only stops her thrusts short, doesn't let her reach as far as Rumi needs her to quench the ache—

"Zoey—"

"Rumi, baby, I can't—okay, okay don't cry, sweetheart—just hold on for me? Can you do that?" Zoey's voice flits between anguished and helpless to soothing and determined in the same breath that Rumi uses to sob out her frustration. She is only faintly aware of the way Zoey lifts her up and off of her lap. She is settled back onto cool sheets as warm lips kiss away an errant tear.

Rumi feels like her skin is going to boil away. She writhes against the sheets, reveling in the fabric wicking the sweat from her naked skin but chafing at the lack of skin atop her own. The epicenter of the boiling heat comes from low in her belly and even slipping her hand between her legs does little to soothe. Her hand is soaked before long, wetness spilling out of her copiously like her insides are sobbing too but thankfully Zoey is back before she can despair for too long.

The first sensation Rumi registers is the heat of Zoey's skin. She has lost her t-shirt while she has left Rumi to suffer but Rumi forgives her when she presses the expanse of her naked skin against Rumi's. It almost makes her sob in relief until she feels the weighted press of silicone jutting from Zoey's hips and then she does sob in relief.

"I told you," Zoey murmurs in Rumi's ear, gentle hands swiping away Rumi's tears. "I got you, baby, I just had to get ready for you." Her nose nuzzles the side of Rumi's neck as Rumi bobbles her head in a nod. She tries to steady her breathing as her hands flex over the rippling muscles of Zoey's back.

"Yeah," Rumi agrees wetly. "For me—you'll—you'll take care of me."

"Always," Zoey promises fiercely. "Just relax, baby. I'll make it go away," and then her hand reaches between them before Rumi feels the head of her cock bumping up against Rumi's entrance. The stuttering breath Zoey lets out, the reverent whisper of, "Fuck, Rumi, you're so wet—" has Rumi's eyes fluttering shut once more.

Zoey slides in to the hilt and Rumi finally feels like she can breathe. It's a newer addition to their collection, only topples Rumi's favorite list when the moon is high in the sky like this because she can't even look at it outside the haze of arousal without feeling embarrassed by the sheer size.

"Better?" Zoey murmurs sweetly once she is fully seated inside of Rumi's body.

Rumi nods her head quickly, her arms locking around Zoey's shoulders like she is scared someone is going to snatch her away. Still the fullness is only one part of the problem. "Fuck me," she demands wantonly and then because it's Zoey she adds on a simpering, "I need you."

Zoey's hands curl into the pillow beside Rumi's head as she settles her weight. There is one final kiss pressed to her cheek before Zoey is fucking her like the sole intent is to put her through the mattress.

Rumi tilts her head back and shrieks out her moans. The dildo is the perfect size, Zoey has the perfect amount of power to her thrusts and Rumi feels like she is on cloud nine. The burning pleasure between her legs overpowers any and all cognition. There is only Zoey. There is only Zoey's cock. As good as it feels Rumi only feels the pressure worsen.

Zoey is panting against her ear, her body slick against Rumi's like she is giving it her all and Rumi loves her—

It's still not enough.

"Zoey," Rumi whines, delirious and frustrated and teetering on the precipice of something huge, something that will satiate the ache between her legs and quiet the hum of her blood if only for a moment.

Zoey grunts her acknowledgement. She doesn't stop jack rabbiting her hips into Rumi but Rumi hears the wet click of her jaw unhinging before her shoulder is exploding in pain that settles right between her legs.

Rumi falls apart snared in Zoey's teeth and skewered on strap on as wave after wave of white hot pleasure crashes over her.

Still Zoey fucks her through it.

She only stops when Rumi's arms fall limply to her sides. Her heart thunders in her rib cage but the ache abates itself for now. Her hands shake when she reaches out to cup Zoey's sweating face.

"I love you," Rumi tells her in a panted slur.

Zoey's mouth quirks at the corner, red in the face but glowing in the eyes. "Told you I'd fix it," she puffs out smugly and then she drops like a sack of bricks onto Rumi's chest.

Rumi trails her nails up and down Zoey's spine as she takes her well deserved rest but the longer the dildo stays seated inside her, the quicker the hunger gnaws at Rumi once more. She is squirming before long.

"Okay, okay," Zoey says with a hefty sigh. She holds herself up on her arms again but seems to think better of it when they tremble. "Position switch, baby. Put that demon stamina to work," she pulls out of Rumi slowly before flopping over and propping herself up on the headboard.

The strap on reaches well past her navel in a way that makes Rumi shiver.

Rumi is already swinging her leg over Zoey's hips when Zoey stops her.

"Wait," Zoey says, her lips curving into a rakish grin. "Turn the other way."

Rumi feels her patterns pulse and flood the room with a purple glow. She climbs onto Zoey's lap and settles into a reverse straddle with Zoey's hands palming her ass the second she is in reach.

The slap that rings through their room and ricochets up Rumi's spine has her patterns in a frenzy once more.

Even though her core is begging to be filled she still grinds the wet apex of her thighs along Zoey's strap in a teasing roll. She is too far gone to use her hands for guidance and she is sure the movement is frantic but eventually she catches the right angle to sink down on the length of Zoey's cock. Her eyes sink shut as her patterns shine visibly even behind her lids.

"Fuck, Rumi," Zoey breathes out. "You look so good like this."

Rumi feels a preening warmth settle over her skin, the purple glow of her patterns glimmering with speckles of gold. She drags herself off of Zoey's strap until only the tip remains before dropping back down to take the full length.

The air punches out of her lungs, a wet slap echoing in their room and for a moment Rumi considers teasing—herself and Zoey—but the gnawing emptiness in her gets a little too sharp and then she is using her demon speed to fuck herself on Zoey's strap.

Zoey lets out a little yelp but she keeps her grip on Rumi's ass and doesn't utter a peep when Rumi's clawed hands finds her shins for leverage. There is only Rumi chasing her own pleasure and Zoey getting off on the fact that Rumi is taking matters into her own hands.

Mira finds them like that an indeterminate amount of time later. She does not look surprised in the least as she exits the bathroom in a cloud of steam with a towel wrapped around her hair and body.

"I heard you guys over my shower," Mira says like she is telling them the weather.

Rumi grunts but doesn't slow the pace of fucking herself against Zoey's strap. The hands palming her ass cheeks squeeze down once before slapping again in an electric little sting. It only has Rumi upping her pace.

"You're late," Zoey says around an airy exhale. "We're already four in."

Mira's brows raise as she walks over to their special suitcase. She sifts through it for a moment before pulling out her favorite harness already fitted with a blue dildo to match the length and girth as the one attached to Zoey's hips.

"Thought we had more time," Mira says casually. "It's early this month."

Zoey huffs a laugh that sounds as delirious as Rumi feels. "Not complaining."

Mira's lips twitch into a smirk as she drops the towel from around her body. "I'm sure," she drawls as she unwinds her hair from her second towel. "You love being useful, huh Zo?" She coos around a mocking little smile.

Zoey's answers with a quiver of a moan. Her hands pull Rumi down at the same time her hips press up and Rumi's eyes flutter shut at the spike of pleasure that follows. She seems to take Mira's words as a challenge as she slows Rumi's thrusting to allow herself to crawl up to her knees.

The hand that shoves between Rumi's shoulder blades to push her down has Rumi trembling in anticipation. The position of supplication has fire licking up her spine and the yawning hunger at its pinnacle. Zoey is a marvel at fucking her full. Her thrusts are deep and penetrating, carving a lasting impression into Rumi's very core until Rumi is limp and moaning beneath her.

"Let her up," Mira commands sharply and Zoey lets out a faint huff but lets her hand drift higher until she's fisting Rumi's hair to drag her up onto all fours. Rumi doesn't think she can get any wetter and yet she comes again around the rough treatment. She floods Zoey's strap and is sure the sheets have been wrecked in the process.

Mira laughs as she crawls onto the bed on her knees. "Did that feel good, Rumi? Being dragged around and used?"

Zoey's hips slow to accommodate the sudden vice clench and Rumi can feel the heave of her breath along her damp skin. "'course it did," she pants openly. "Only we can make you feel this good, right baby?" She punctuates her words with a thrust so deep Rumi is breathlessly full.

"Yes," Rumi's voice doesn't even sound her own and that only further drives her into the haze of pleasure.

A fist winds its way through her hair, Zoey's falling away to meet its mirror on Rumi's hips, until her head is being craned back. Mira's cock bobs a hair's width away from her lips. "Come on, baby," she says around a raspy purr. "You know the drill get me wet for you."

Rumi is nothing if the picture of obeyance. She takes Mira into her mouth in one fell swoop until she is gagging. The shaky hum of approval it rewards her has her doing it again and again and again until tears are slipping down her cheeks and Mira is fucking into her mouth.

The gnawing hunger transforms under their hands and dedication until there is nothing but white hot pleasure lashing at her from every which direction. She is no longer herself but an empty void desperate to be filled. Her thoughts are only the connection points tying her to Mira and Zoey, grounding her while still letting her float free.

Rumi doesn't even hear him as he enters their suite. One second she is battered from both ends, ripping so wonderfully at the seams, and the next they are hands gripping tight to either side of her face to pull Rumi off—

The whimper that chokes up her throat almost drowns out the sound of Mira's voice.

"Cool," Mira grunts out but she is not talking to Rumi and Rumi struggles to realize why she is no longer fucking Rumi— why her attention has drifted—Mira's cock slips out of her mouth and Rumi whines even as she pants like a dog for their new audience. Mira's grip does not loosen on the sides of Rumi's face and Rumi feels drool leak down her neck. "Bobby, get out."

"Okay, okay," Bobby says amicably but Rumi doesn't care—can only think about the bristling pace of Zoey slamming into her from behind and the spit soaked cock just out of her reach. "But give her a break soon! We'll have a live stream to express gratitude—"

"Bobby!" Zoey barks out, her hands on Rumi's body flexing and curling like she is expecting Rumi to be snatched away from her. Bobby actually lets out a little squeak. "Out!"

They don't schedule a live until two days later.

Bobby knocks this time even though no one answers. Well, he doesn't actually on account of the elevators but he assumes the ding will be enough. It's not like he has not seen it all at this point. He is only glad that they are getting along again. The PR disaster from their break up? He shivers as he thinks about the nightmarish backlash of the fans on top of the network breathing down his neck—

His steps stutter to a stop as he realizes how devastating a romantic breakup would be now. His hand presses briefly to his chest to make sure his heart is still beating and not shriveled up and broken.

His phone chimes in his hand once more and he remembers the reason for this impromptu visit.

There have been rumblings—Zoey clinging a little too tightly to either of her girls at any given moment and not to mention the constant liking of thirst tweets, Rumi's body at the forefront of everyone's mind with her new shiny tattoos but also displaying lipstick stains and mouth shaped bruises, Mira being so openly disgusted with every man who dares to be in her presence and downright murderous when it's Zoey and Rumi—but Bobby is trying his best to oust them as they pop up. He needs to know what the plan is, however, because they are one careless mistake away from revealing to the world just how deeply they love each other.

He doesn't care—not really—because he loves them and they pay him 4% now after the whole—Bobby flushes at the cheeks when he thinks about the murder on Mira's face every time he barges in unannounced—but the world is not kind! Bobby doesn't want to see them get hurt which means sometimes he has to ask the hard and uncomfortable questions.

He steps further off the elevator into the apartment proper, his eyes bouncing around and his face half winced like he's going to see poor, sweet Rumi at the bottom of some intricate body puzzle but there is only the stillness of their apartment. The giant TV in their living room is on but its sitting at the main menu of its streaming service like it's long since been forgotten.

Bobby takes the trail to get around the couch. He ignores the empty take out containers and variety of drinks strewn across the glass coffee table and he definitely ignores the metal handcuffs and brightly colored dildos forgotten along the carpet. He erases the giant bottle of lube immediately from his memory despite the familiar logo.

Bobby finds them on the couch, sound asleep and as innocent as he has ever walked in on them. It almost reminds him of before the comeback except for all the ways its wildly different.

Mira is flat on her back on the longest piece of their sectional. Her lips are parted softly in their sleepy purse but her face is gentle in a way Bobby has never really gotten to see for this long. Her shoulders are bared and Bobby assumes she is shirtless though he can't really see anything with the way Rumi's head is lying side ways across her chest.

Zoey too is shirtless and Bobby winces at the trails of red between her shoulder blades that the arm Mira has tossed around her doesn't cover. She looks incredibly comfortable on her stomach between Mira's legs, drooling a puddle carelessly against the skin of Mira's abdomen below her. She at least has on pajama pants and Bobby kind of wants a pair because he thinks the bears and the flying pieces of sushi are kind of cute.

Rumi is the most covered in a way Bobby is mutely surprised by. The t-shirt—that definitely belongs to Mira with the way it is too large even in sleep—still doesn't cover the teeth shaped bruises decorating her thighs. Her hand is twined loosely with Zoey's, the tip of her nose almost touching the crown of Zoey's head.

The whole tableau tugs at his heart strings.

Bobby decides then, as he is tugging a blanket over Rumi's back before reaching for the folded throw at the edge of the couch to tuck Zoey in, that he will fight off a horde of rumors with teeth and claw if he needs to. He won't worry them over this. He will help defend this little bubble until they are ready to pop in themselves.

After all they paid him 4%.