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Rumi has felt something simmering inside for days. At first, just a gentle heat courses through her, ancient and electric. Touches loom on her skin seconds longer than usual.
It was pleasant. The burn of want, nothing more than an echo into an endless void.
But what began as an incomprehensible whisper, now roared against her ribs. Beckoning her to submit to… more intense desires. It no longer faded when Mira cupped her jaw gently, or waned when Zoey’s lips ghosted across hers. Instead, it surged, pulsed, and devoured.
They weren’t her peace anymore.
They were her catalysts.
That faded simmer became a fuse — agonizing, yet seductive. It sparked behind her navel whenever Zoey laughed. Pulsed when Mira would toss her damp hair behind sharp collarbones, and ignited when soft fingers would brush against hers.
She has to pull away first. Always. The first to step back from a kiss before it deepens. The first to laugh off a compliment instead of leaning in. The first to vanish into her room at night, because if she didn’t, she wasn’t sure what she might do.
Or what might take over.
Even now, standing outside, she could feel them already. The scent of shampoo, soft vanilla and sweet strawberries, wafts under her door like a spell. She was trembling when the knob clicked.
“Rumiiiiii!” Zoey beams, trampling into her room. She’s wrapped in a soft pink bathrobe, hair up in two playful twists. “Bath house time!”
Mira bounds into view like gravity doesn’t apply. “YEAHHHHH!” she squeals, slipping her arms around them both. Her fingertips barely graze Rumi’s shoulder, but that’s all it takes.
The contact feels like sun-soaked silk searing across skin. Her body tenses, eyes hazing with crimson as something just beneath her ribs shivers awake. Her core swirls with molten pressure, and she could already feel the patterns crawling faintly up her arms.
Not now. Not here.
What if she loses control?
Rumi steps back, so quickly the air snaps between them. “I… I think I’ll stay in tonight,” she mutters, eyes low, voice tight. “You two go ahead.”
Mira’s face contorts — confusion, then concern. Her hand hovers mid-air, reaching out, before falling back to her side. Zoey blinks rapidly, a smile faltering into something small and fragile.
“Hey, are you okay?” Zoey asks, her voice barely a breeze as she slides a comforting arm around Rumi’s waist.
That simple warmth sends sparks through Rumi. They just got me back , she thought. And now I’m scaring them all over again .
Rumi twists out of Zoey’s touch as gently as she can manage. “Y-yeah. Just need some air. I love you both,” she murmurs, voice cracking as she reaches for them one last time.
She kisses their foreheads. Soft and gentle, but inside, her body is on fire. Every instinct screams to pull them closer. To hold them too tight. To taste them until she forgets the world.
But she can’t.
She shouldn’t.
They nod, Mira squeezes Zoey’s hand in concern as they turn to leave. “We’re here for you, Ru. No matter what,” she nods assuringly.
The door clicks shut and everything unravels.
The red glow flares violently across her stomach, streaking through the patterns like lava through cracks. Not the usual rainbow light, not the elegant blues or purple of her summoned form — this was deep, carnal red. Her demon was no longer slumbering. It was starving.
Her breath catches as her knees give out, hitting the floor with a gasp. Images crash in her skull, overlapping. Zoey, dripping wet, with a towel hanging too low; Mira, dancing in tight shorts, arms above her head like she knew Rumi was watching — both of them radiant, untouchable, hers.
The fantasies twist into something darker.
Chains. Whimpers. Zoey gasping beneath her, begging for Rumi’s hand at her throat. Mira, sprawled across the bed, wrists bound, eyes pleading — not in fear, but need. A raw, primal ache clenches deep inside her, and she hates how badly she wants it.
An unrecognizable voice whispers from within:
You don’t need to resist. They want you just like this.
She clenches her fists, banging them against the floor. “No. No. Not like this. Not—”
Too late.
Red chains bloom around her limbs, shackling her in mid-air as her body hovers, suspended by magic. The marks glow across her abs, chest, and neck. She feels like she’s burning alive, pulsing with a power and desire too strong to control.
The door opens.
Laughter. Plastic bags rustling while in fresh, chic outfits. Light footsteps on tile. And then…
“Oh, Rumiiii!” Zoey’s voice sings, full of sweet affection and innocence. “We brought you a get-well-soon-slash-we-miss-you basket!”
Rumi’s patterns throb to the quick and unsteady beat in her chest. They couldn’t see her like this. They can’t.
Her voice thundered out, not entirely her own:
“Go away.”
The air trembles. The honmoon shakes.
Zoey and Mira stumble back, but don't retreat. Instead, they run toward the sound, toward her. Always toward her.
They freeze, taking in the scene before them.
Rumi floats in mid-air, a pure goddess to behold — or something darker, more twisted. Her purple hair is fanned out, glowing with the same ferocity as wildfire. Crimson eyes wide and wild. Her body flex’s, magic carved across every inch of skin, each muscle outlined in a radiant heat.
Mira’s breath hitches. Zoey blinks as her mouth is held ajar. “Rumi…” she whispers.
“I— I can’t control it!” Rumi cries, straining against the chains as they wrap tighter, constricting her urges. Her needs.
The silence is deafening, no one daring to move a muscle. The two hunters look Rumi up and down. They watch as her eyes drip with desire, undressing them both just from a glance. Her muscles bulge against chains, and her face - well they can’t get enough of it.
Rumi has always been breathtaking, but right now she was on a whole other level.
The silence breaks as two words escape from both their lips:
“So. Hot.”
Then their hands flick by their sides, summoning weapons instinctively, not to fight — but to anchor her. They weren’t afraid. They know Rumi. They love her.
“We want to help,” Mira says, voice strong and sure. “Whatever you need, Ru.”
That was all it took.
The chains snap. Red light explodes as Rumi drops from the air like lightning.
In a heartbeat she was in front of Zoey, hand on her throat, breath ragged, gaze feral. Zoey doesn’t flinch. She only exhales, eyes glimmering with tears and something even deeper: trust.
Rumi’s body shakes in restraint. Her other arm curls tight around Zoey’s waist, pinning her there, close enough to feel every tremor of her pulse.
“I… I can’t control myself around you two,” Rumi whispers, her voice low and rough like smoke and velvet.
Zoey tilts her head back, a smile trembles as a single tear slides down her cheek. “So don’t.”
The dam broke. Rumi kissed her like the world was ending, like Zoey was air and she’d been drowning for days. Her lips were bruising, desperate, but Zoey kissed her right back, just as needy.
So don’t .
The words replay, and Rumi can’t take it anymore. She doesn't know where this night would end or what her demon would demand. But for now?
She surrenders.
Mira drapes a hand on Rumi's shoulder, a wicked gleam glinting in her eyes as she leans in close, lips brushing against Rumi’s neck. Mira’s breath is hot, her voice rich and smooth. “You’re so dangerous like this,” she whispers, her kiss searing into Rumi’s skin, leaving marks as her tongue soothes over the suction of a fresh hickey. “And I’ve never wanted you more.”
In her other hand, Mira holds something: a large strap glints in the red light. Rumi’s eyes lock onto it, her breathing sharp, ravenous. The symbol of control.
“I brought this… just in case,” Mira adds, her voice playful but laced with intent. “We’re yours tonight.”
Rumi doesn’t speak—she can’t. She just grips their hands tightly, pulling them both toward the bedroom. The door slams shut with a pulse of red energy, shadows writhing across walls like smoke under moonlight. The patterns across Rumi’s body pulse in tandem with her heartbeat, casting eerie red flares that turn the room into a vision of some beautiful, dangerous afterlife.
They shouldn't trust her. Rumi knows this. She's not stable. She's not even sure she's herself anymore. And yet… the second Zoey and Mira gazed at her in this form, they wanted a taste. They stare in awe rather than fear, and Rumi wonders if losing control is exactly what they’ve been needing.
The air is thick, so charged that every breath feels electric. Mira’s eyes never leave Rumi’s. Her body language shifts, less play, more devotion.
Rumi moves toward her, slow and purposeful, backing Mira toward the bed. The touch of her hand is firm, not rough, but full of restrained force. Mira gasps when her back hits the mattress, eyes wide, lips parted.
It's a new feeling for Mira - to happily submit, but her desire for Rumi is so intense that she yearns for it. For Rumi to control every inch of her. Mira’s mind rushes with such a need, and the closer Rumi steps, the more she feels it in her throbbing center.
Red chains shimmer into existence with a sound like whispers and windchimes. They snake around Mira’s limbs, securing her softly but completely. Mira’s breath hitches. She looks at Rumi—not pleading, not afraid—but ready . Willing. Hungry.
Rumi turns, her gaze shifting to Zoey with a soft command etched in her eyes. The smaller girl stands frozen in a mixture of anticipation and awe.
“Sit down and touch yourself while you wait for me,” she demands, her icy words in sharp contrast to the pulsing heat of the room. Rumi grasps her neck once more, connecting their lips roughly and abruptly as Zoey’s lips part, welcoming her in.
She has worshiped Rumi’s patterns every day, but now she can help her, and she wants to in any way she can. Every movement, touch, and kiss fuels her unending need for more. Rumi’s mouth opens wider, allowing Zoey to dip her tongue inside.
Then, just as Zoey fully sinks into the kiss, Rumi pulls away, eyes blazing with a ferocity that makes Zoey’s breath catch in her throat.
The command was clear, and Zoey, despite her usual playfulness, found herself obeying without hesitation. She shudders, lowers herself onto the velvet chair near the bed, and slowly begins to undo the laces of her skirt, her eyes never leaving Rumi’s.
“Myself?” she asks, a flush painting her cheeks, her voice barely a whisper.
Rumi nods, her gaze intense and hungry. She watches as Zoey lets her hands drift down her body, the movement slow and deliberate. Zoey’s touch is tentative at first, her fingers tracing the curve of her hip, then growing bolder with each passing second.
Rumi’s gaze intensifies, her eyes following every movement, every shift in Zoey’s expression. The sight of her, so vulnerable and willing, sends a wave of heat crashing through Rumi, igniting a fire deep within her core.
Zoey’s fingers slip inside her already soaking wet center, and Rumi can almost feel the wet heat herself, her own body responding with a throb of need. Zoey whines and whimpers, her breath hitching as she silently begs for Rumi’s fingers to replace hers. Still, she does as she’s told, delving in and out of herself, her movements erratic, panting as she doesn’t dare to defy her demand.
As Zoey follows through, fingers trembling slightly, Rumi mounts the bed, straddling Mira with a gaze that pins her in place even more powerfully than the chains. Her presence is commanding, not just from her demonic form, but from the desire burning inside her—hot, raw, insatiable. Rumi’s patterns pulse across her skin, a mesmerizing dance of red and black, a testament to her power and hunger.
“Stay still for me,” Rumi murmurs, her voice low and breathy, yet edged in something unearthly. A promise of pleasure and pain intertwined.
Mira swallows hard, nodding, her heart pounds so loud she’s sure Rumi can hear. Rumi’s hand grazes the hem of Mira’s top, slowly sliding it upward, her knuckles grazing soft skin. Mira arches instinctively, a soft gasp escaping her lips. Rumi doesn’t rush—she studies her, eyes devouring. A queen admiring her tribute, savoring the moment before a feast.
Behind them, Zoey breathes heavily, every sound from the bed hitting her like a wave. Her hand trembles as she grips the arm of the chair, willing herself to hold back—desperate to be touched, to be wanted the same way. The scent of her arousal mingles in the room, a heady perfume that only stokes Rumi’s fire.
Rumi presses her forehead against Mira’s, her voice suddenly breaking beneath the heat. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispers, eyes brimming with red light as a battle rages within. The demon wants to consume, to take without restraint, while the human yearns for connection, for tenderness.
“You won’t,” Mira whispers back, her eyes glassy, lips brushing against Rumi’s. “You already saved me. Now let me take all of you.”
Their lips connect once more, and there’s no turning back. Mira whimpers, tugging at the chains, her desperate attempt to touch Rumi is utterly hopeless. Any control she could have had was stripped away the second she ran towards the demon instead of far away.
The gentleness vanishes as Rumi rips off Mira’s shirt in a swift tug, still never separating from her soft lips. She reveals two perfect mounds, her eyes salivating, desperate for a taste. Her tongue flicks out, teasing a nipple, making Mira gasp and arch her back.
Her hands trail up and down Mira's enchanting body before lightly pinching a breast. Mira's hips buck forward, “please,” she whimpers, “I need you.”
Rumi smirks mischievously, pinching her chest harder. Mira gasps at the addicting pain, taking this chance to add tongue into their heated kiss, needing more, always more. Rumi’s teeth nip at her lower lip, drawing blood, the coppery taste mingling with their saliva.
“Please… what?” Rumi’s demonic voice teases, lowering her lips to Mira’s neck, gracing it with sweet hickeys as she watches Mira’s back arch in need. Each mark is a claim, a brand, a promise of more to come.
“You — fuck… please fuck me, Rumi,” she pleads in between whimpers and moans. Something Rumi never thought she'd hear - especially from Mira, but begging sounds so good on her. A melody of submission that makes Rumi’s core clench.
Rumi makes her way down to Mira’s chest, sucking the pink nub in the center as she hears the chains clang. A desperate ache seeps from her dripping wet center. She needs more. More of Mira, more of Zoey, more of everything. The demon within her roars, demanding satisfaction.
Still, Rumi takes her time, teasing Mira as tears begin to stream down her face. The fact that she’s broken and still pleading to receive more drives Rumi crazy.
A sadistic expression glows crimson as her patterns throb harder, especially from the sound of Zoey repeating Rumi’s name behind them as she watches from her chair. Dipping in and out of herself quickly, Zoey’s fingers glisten with her own wetness, a mirror to Rumi’s own feverish need.
Smiling, Rumi slowly drags Mira’s pants down, the heat in her eyes eliciting such excitement from the girl below. Mira’s legs part further, inviting, begging for Rumi’s touch. The sight of her, so open and willing, makes Rumi’s mouth water.
“Awe, baby are you dripping for me already?” Rumi asks, tauntingly. Mira nods, needing some form of contact. Needing some form of relief. She begs, moaning and bucking her hips towards Rumi’s mouth, feeling her warm breath lightly press against where Mira needs her most.
Rumi’s fingertips trace her upper thighs, then inch closer and closer before hovering right above Mira’s folds. The anticipation is killing them both, the air thick with tension and pure lust.
She waves her fingers up and down, barely brushing Mira, but she's already a moaning mess below. Then, without warning, she submerges two fingers inside while flicking her tongue against Mira’s sensitive clit. The dual sensation is overwhelming, sending Mira into a frenzy of ecstasy.
If Mira wasn’t restrained, her thighs would have closed around Rumi’s head. Her body grinds shamelessly, crying out for more. The pressure in Mira’s abdomen balls up, on the verge of igniting like a match to a flame. Rumi’s patterns pulse in time with her movements, a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow.
“Can I come for you?” She begs. Rumi just smiles, increasing the pace of one hand as the other drags pretty marks along her upper thigh. Mira hisses, a dam threatening to spill over in a delightful chaotic rush. It’s too much too fast, and she can’t do a damn thing about it.
It wells so deep, ingraining itself into every fiber of her being. Goosebumps rise on her skin, sweat beads down her forehead, and she can hardly form coherent words. Her release is imminent, needed, and deserved.
“Can… Can I finish?” Mira pleads once more, seemingly for the thousandth time. Her words jumble together, as messy as her wet folds down below.
Rumi smiles against Mira’s dripping pussy, tongue still bobbing in circles on her center. She nods, giving into Mira’s plea while keeping her fingers and mouth busy. The room fills with the sound of wet suction and Mira’s desperate moans.
“Rumiii!” She yells, coming undone. Her hips buck forward, back arching, as her toes curl. Mira convulses as sweet liquid ejects in one violent rush. Rumi savors her girlfriend's taste, licking up every last drop as her nails scratch deeper along her thighs, leaving pretty red marks.
Rumi never stops her motions, not even slowing down for a single breath. No, she’s hungry. Her fingers pulse inside of Mira as she screams out, the sound raw and primal.
“A- So much. Rumi, please…” she cries, begging for relief. For Rumi to slow down and let her breathe. But just as quickly as she came, she felt that same feeling rise up again right after.
This time stronger. Rumi’s motions borderline too much, and Mira’s surprised she’s still conscious. Every touch sends beams of pleasure and pain through her system, an addicting rush.
“Can I- again?” She begs, screaming noises she’s never made before. If Rumi says no, her body would react anyways. There’s no way around it, Mira needs to finish now.
But of course her sadistic girlfriend shakes her head, denying the desperate plea, and Mira comes undone once more. Her hands grip the chains, head swinging back as her eyes close, moaning Rumi’s name over and over. The sound is a chant, a prayer, her biggest want and need.
Rumi hums against her center, a new fire igniting as Mira steps out of line, disobeying. Mira revels in her orgasm as Rumi plots, cupping Mira’s ass before giving it a loud smack. Mira whimpers, apologizing profusely, her voice a mix of pleasure and pain.
Rumi crawls back up Mira’s body, inserting two fingers inside Mira’s mouth. Mira’s eyes grow wide in shock, but she takes both fingers so well, tasting herself on them, a heady mix of salt and sweet.
“Swallow.”
Mira nods, swallowing as she gags on Rumi’s fingers, her throat working hard to take them all in. The sight is erotic, a dance of dominance and submission that makes Rumi’s core throb now, and it’s time to get her fill.
“That’s more like it. You better do good for me, Mira,” Rumi hints, sliding down her own waistband to reveal more glowing patterns. Red, swollen and bright. Mira licks her lips, wanting a taste, needing to feel Rumi’s power against her own tongue.
Rumi straddles Mira’s head, positioned so her gaze can lock onto Zoey. Rumi hovers her center right above Mira’s hungry mouth. Mira squirms underneath as the red chains rattle once more, “let me do good for you. Let me touch you, Rumi,” she mutters, breath hitching as she’s mere inches away from devouring Rumi’s wet pussy above her.
Rumi waves a finger and the chains disband. Mira’s hands quickly find their way to Rumi’s thighs, cupping them as she delves her tongue inside her. The sensation is electric, a jolt of pleasure that makes Rumi gasp and grind against her face.
Rumi’s hips move in small circles, gasping in delight, “f-fuck,” she groans, “just like that.” Mira smiles against Rumi, delving her tongue inside as far as it will go. The wetness seeps into her mouth, and fuck she tastes good. Like power and sin, a heady mix that makes Mira drunk on Rumi.
Rumi looks at a trembling Zoey, eyes brimming with need as she still works her fingers inside herself. Her legs sprawled open for Rumi to take whenever she wishes. Rumi smiles, grinding harder from the sight. Mira pulls Rumi’s thighs down further, eliciting a sharp gasp from Rumi. She waves Zoey over, seeing the immediate smile bloom on her face as she joins the two of them. Her hands soon run up and down Rumi’s thrusting body.
Zoey straddle s Mira’s legs, her face gleaming up at Rumi in her power. Her eyes are wide with awe and desire, a mix of emotions that makes her look almost innocent, despite the sinful scene unfolding before her.
“Good girl,” she praises, “you took it all so well for me.” Rumi admits, grabbing Zoey’s waist and pulling her in for a needy kiss, while Mira continues to work her magic tongue down below.
Zoey gasps at the gentle contact, her center pressed against Mira’s thigh as she needily kisses Rumi with desperate haste. Their bodies a cosmic collision, so intense it can send stars flying. Rumi moans into Zoey’s mouth as heat rushes up and down her body, needing her closer. Zoey melts into her, cupping Rumi’s sensitive chest as she pants, her breath hot and heavy against Rumi’s skin.
Rumi’s center tightens just before release. Body shaking, her moans tremble the entire room as she steps dangerously close to the edge. Her patterns pulse, the red brightens with each passing moment. Mira’s mouth feels that good. Her tongue a weapon of mass destruction, leaving Rumi a quivering mess.
Rumi grips Zoey’s ass as their bodies are flush against each other, using the smaller girl as support as she rides out this high, “all m- mine,” she moans, releasing a burst of wet into Mira’s needy mouth, savoring the taste of her own pleasure mixed with Mira’s saliva.
She rides it out, bodies grasping. Patterns beaming, the demon hungry as it finally gets a taste. She gasps into Zoey. Her hips lull to a stop as she stands, panting, her body slick with sweat and her own release.
“You take me so well, Mira,” Rumi smirks, snapping her fingers as a water bottle appears out of thin air. It hovers right in front of Mira while she sits up, desperately trying to catch her breath. The calming liquid slides down her throat as she drinks, her eyes fluttering closed in relief and satisfaction. She hums as Rumi’s words replay in a mesmerizing loop.
You take me so well.
While Mira is busy drinking, Rumi adjusts a strap around her waist, connecting it into place as she struts towards Zoey still on the bed. Zoey glances down in fear, not knowing if something that big would even fit inside of her. Her eyes are wide, a mix of trepidation and excitement, a beautiful contradiction that makes Rumi’s heart race.
She bounces up and down in anxious excitement. She’s been waiting far too long to feel Rumi’s touch again, and boy was she ready, every nerve tingling with anticipation and need.
Rumi lifts Zoey up by the collar of her shirt, throwing her down next to Mira. Rumi’s movements are swift and sure, a predator claiming her prey. Mira struts over to the same chair as Zoey, sighing in contentment at her well-deserved break. Her brain is fuzzy and bright. The intense orgasms still affect her senses, her body hums with residual pleasure.
“Don’t touch yourself, or do anything for relief as you watch,” Rumi’s voice spills out. Threatening in the hottest way possible, a command laced with promise and danger.
Mira has combusted into a puddle anyways, this shouldn’t be too hard —
Rumi eyes Zoey, kissing her lips gently as their bodies fit together like jigsaw pieces. In between kisses, Rumi thrusts the strap inside Zoey. Her mouth gasps, “a- ahh,” she cries, “so much!”
In one moment, she went from empty to full, the pain of sudden difference making itself known as tears well in the crevices of her eyes.
“Take it for me, my sweet Zoey,” Rumi says, as her eyes soften, gentling her hips in a soft rock as Zoey hums in satisfaction, “can you do that?” Rumi asks. The humanity in her creeping out slightly after reaching her own peak, a flicker of tenderness amidst the storm.
Zoey nods. Her eyes big, her lips breathless as she takes the entire length of the strap inside of her, “I love you,” are the only words strong enough to escape her lips in between the kisses and Rumi’s thrusts.
Zoey is so gentle, fragile. And Rumi wants to push her as far as she can go, not knowing if it’s the demon talking or herself anymore. Too lost in the heat of it all, Rumi’s movements become more frenzied, her hips moving faster, her breaths coming in ragged gasps.
The thrusts of her hips increase in speed as Zoey scratches Rumi’s back for dear life, lips still locked together in tandem with each thrust. The room fills with the sound of their wet, slapping skin, a raging chorus of pleasure and need.
“More,” Zoey coos, and Rumi happily delivers. She thrusts stronger now, rising from a gentle insertion, to clapping against her hips fiercely with each blow. Zoey’s hips rock, muttering innocent ‘I love you’s’ over and over again as Rumi destroys her, claiming, and marking her as her own.
“Can I come, Rumi?” She begs, her breath catching as she stops herself from fully delving into a release, “please—” she squeaks out, her voice a mix of desperation and hope.
A soft and gentle Rumi returns, or it’s just the demon wanting to see Zoey combust, but either way, she nods as her lips connect with Zoey once more. Granting her request as Rumi thrusts needily into her.
Zoey scratches Rumi’s back as she finishes, making the demon bleed as she reaches a greater high than she’s ever known. She was hungry too, and Rumi was her perfect meal. She moans into Rumi’s mouth, struggling to kiss back, her body convulsing with the force of release.
Mira sits dumbfounded. The heat in her legs is an inferno. She thought she couldn’t take anymore, but the way Rumi moves, and the way Zoey responds were everything to her. She fought her desire to spread herself and insert a finger, or cross her legs to at least receive a form of friction. She just sat sprawled back, manspread as she was forced to watch her two girls touch each other, not able to do a damn thing about it. The sight is pure passion, leaving Mira breathless and wanting more.
Rumi’s patterns wax and wane, finally flickering low as it darkens the room. Her lust subsides. These two girls were the perfect fill. Zoey pants, wiggling around with the strap still inside.
“Keep it in,” Zoey pleads, voice still trembling from orgasm, “At least for a little bit.”
She kisses Zoey once more, smiling against her lips. The heat has subsided, and all that’s left is Zoey’s big brown eyes staring up at her. Rumi’s biggest weakness. After a few minutes of kisses in between hums of sweet nothings, Rumi removes the strap, revealing a sad pout on Zoey’s face as the emptiness makes its presence known.
The room is now filled with soft sounds of breathing, a stark contrast to the earlier hurricane of heat. Rumi waves Mira over as she flops on top of them both, their bodies a tangle of limbs and giggles. The scent of their combined arousal hangs heavy in the air, a heady perfume that makes them smile.
Then it all comes rushing back to Rumi. The way she lost control, and took it from them. The way she chained Mira and gripped Zoey like a toy. What if they wanted nothing to do with her after this? What if they saw her as a monster, unable to separate the demon from plain Rumi?
She sits up, shocking them out of their comfort cuddle, “I’m sorry,” her thick voice echoes out, laced with vulnerability. “Was that all okay?” She asks, more so to the void of darkness than to her partners, her eyes searching for any sign of fear or regret.
Their arms grip Rumi’s waist tightly, “totally. You could even lose control more often. I like it,” Mira affirms, kissing Rumi’s cheek gently, her lips soft and reassuring.
“Yes. Double — no, triple yes! You were like a super hot-goddess-ninja-demon,” Zoey smiles, a cute twinkle in her eye, as she mimics fake karate slices with her hands.
“We love all of you, Rumi. The demon, the human, and everything in between. You’re ours, and we’re yours. Always,” they state in unison, voices blending into a harmonious chorus of acceptance. They’ve told her this exact phrase many times before, but only after being completely unleashed does Rumi finally believe them.
They all lay back down in each other's warm embrace, sleeping soundly through the night with sore bodies and pure contentment. The room is quiet, other than soft snores and gentle sighs of three people who have finally found their harmony.