Work Text:
There’s been something… strange happening to Rumi lately. She notices it whenever Zoey hugs her, or whenever Mira reaches out to rub her shoulders. She notices it whenever Zoey’s nose crinkles as she laughs, or whenever Mira’s lips quirk up right before she gives in to a proper smile. She notices it whenever Zoey snuggles up close on the couch and tangles their fingers together, and whenever Mira looks at their joined hands with a softness to her face, lingering for a moment in a space where she exists just outside… before she, too, cuddles up close on the couch, running her fingers through Rumi’s hair.
Whenever Rumi is around one or both of them, something strange and achy happens in her chest, and she’s not quite sure what to make of it. It’s not quite pain—at worst, around the same level as pressing on a healing bruise—but it’s not entirely comfortable either.
Whatever it is, it doesn't seem to be hurting her in any obvious way, so she ignores it. And what ignoring it leads to is, of course, working.
So that’s what Rumi does. She puts her head down and works, spilling all of her thoughts and desires into song instead. If there’s any bucket in the world that can contain her overflow, it’s music.
—
Rumi takes her headphones off and leans back in her chair with a sigh, rolling her neck. The new piece she’s been playing around with recently is feeling good. Like pure, undistilled HUNTR/X—with all the power and confidence of Golden, and all the vulnerability and triumph of What it Sounds Like—and she can’t wait to show Mira and Zoey. She pushes away from her desk and stands, stretching her arms above her head. It’s definitely time for a well-deserved break.
She opens the door and almost jumps out of her skin.
“Jesus—! Mira, Zoey, what are you doing?”
The two of them are standing right outside her door wearing fluffy bathrobes and white sheet masks, looking for all the world like the ghosts of people who died at a spa retreat.
“Oh heyyy, Rumi,” Zoey says, holding up an unopened sheet mask. “Mira and I were just about to do some face masks and wanted to see if you’d like to join?”
Rumi laughs, crossing her arms and leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, trying to ignore the way her chest starts aching.
“You’re already wearing them,” she notes.
“Zoey and I were doing face masks and realized you’d been in your room all day—probably working on that new song you think we don’t already know about—and wanted to see if you’d like to take a break and hang out with us,” Mira says, gesturing with both hands at the proffered mask.
And god, there it is again. The ache. Harder to ignore on the back of the last little heart throb.
It’s just… the gentle persistence with which they keep reaching out and making her feel wanted after things almost broke makes her love them so, so much.
“Well, if you’re both asking…” Rumi trails off. She uncrosses her arms as the two of them happily reach for her with Yayyys an octave apart and lets them lead her to the couch.
—
“Sssss— Cold cold cold cold cold!”
Rumi hisses through her teeth and fans ineffectually at her face for lack of a more appropriate response to extreme temperature.
“The first ten seconds of a sheet mask are the worst,” Mira says, leaning into her in solidarity. “But your skin is going to thank you tomorrow.”
“Not that your skin is bad, of course,” Zoey pipes in on her left. She takes her hand and interlocks their fingers, and thankfully it’s slightly easier to ignore the way her heart beats a little harder with something cold on her face. “It’s just good to practice self-care for future you.”
There’s a brief pause, a moment where something seems to shift.
“Speaking of self-care,” Zoey continues, slower than usual, like every word has weight to it and needs to be set down carefully. “How do you feel about having a spa day?”
“Aren’t we doing that already?” Rumi asks, lifting their joined hands towards her (thankfully warming up) sheet mask.
“Mm… yes,” Mira says, turning to face them and pulling her long legs up to cross on the couch. “But also no. Not quite. What we have in mind is a little different.”
“Uh, why? What did you have in mind?”
Zoey squirms next to her, restless energy evident in every cell. She looks to Mira, who nods, and takes a breath.
“We figured you’d never gotten a treatment at a jjimjilbang before, and, well. You have to experience it at least once, Rumi.”
“Yeah,” Mira nods seriously. “It’s life changing.”
“Totally life changing. Like this one time? Mira and I went for a two-hour body scrub and massage combo package—”
“Oh my goddd, I floated out and my skin was soft for a whole month, I swear.”
“—and Mira was so soft. I couldn’t stop touching her afterwards.”
Rumi’s mouth goes dry and something swoops in her belly at the thought of Zoey running her hands over Mira’s skin. She nods wordlessly, pasting on a supportive grin as she tries to stop thinking about hands on skin.
The corner of Mira’s mouth lifts into a smirk as she glances over at Zoey.
“I couldn’t stop touching you either,” she says, warmth mellowing the edges of her voice.
Rumi swallows hard. She’s really not thinking about touching. And she really wishes her heart would stop speeding up.
There’s a tenderness in Zoey’s eyes as she reaches over her to brush her fingers over Mira’s knee, and then she’s turning her attention back to Rumi.
“Anyway,” she continues, “all of that is to say that we’d like to treat you to the Korean spa experience, right here in our own home!”
“Huh?” Rumi says, blankly. Her mind is still caught somewhere between not thinking about Zoey touching Mira or Mira touching Zoey.
“Zoey found a jjimjilbang that sells their body scrubs,” Mira explains patiently, “and I ordered massage oil from a sports masseuse. We’re going to help you relax.”
“Help me relax,” Rumi repeats, definitely and uncontrollably thinking about touching.
“Oh! It’s not the same as a proper table, but I did buy an inflatable raft—like the ones you can lay on in a pool? I guess it’s kinda like an air mattress, only waterproof and easy to clean, so we can use that for the scrub and massage,” Zoey says.
“Good call,” Mira says, like everything’s already decided and like Rumi’s not trying to get her thoughts under control.
“Okay, so I’ll go inflate the floatie and set it up in the bathroom. Can you—?”
“Body scrub and oil? On it,” Mira says. She stands up and rests her hand on top of Rumi’s head. “You have another five minutes with that sheet mask, which gives us plenty of time to take ours off, get changed, and prep the bathroom for you. Just sit here and we’ll come get you in a bit.”
“Oh, uh. Okay,” Rumi says meekly, letting go of Zoey’s hand as she stands up too.
“You’re gonna love this,” Zoey says cheerfully. “I promise.”
—
True to her word, Mira comes to get her about five minutes later with her glasses on, hair up in a high ponytail, dressed in a black bikini with a matching sarong tied at her hips. Rumi gets a half-second to admire how effortlessly striking she looks before she unceremoniously herds her into the bathroom and towards the shower.
“Take a nice hot shower first,” she says, twisting the showerhead on. “Zoey needs a little help inflating the floatie.”
“Can I wash your back, Rumi?” Zoey asks from the other side of the bathroom where she's crouching in a teal bikini top and short yellow boardshorts, hair in a messy bun, a half-inflated, blue pool float held in her hands.
“Next time, Zoey,” Mira says, reaching for the floatie. “Let’s blow this thing up.”
Rumi tries not to think about a next time when she hasn’t even made it through a this time. She strips out of her hoodie, joggers, and underthings and waits for the water to heat up, but when she looks up to check on their progress, they’re both looking at her—pool float forgotten.
“Wh- what?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest, suddenly self-conscious. Which, she belatedly realizes, is silly. A body is a body, even if hers happens to have patterns.
“You’re so pretty, Rumi,” Zoey sighs, a faint flush on her cheeks.
“So pretty,” Mira echoes, a matching flush on hers. The bottom of her glasses are fogging up a little.
“You two have seen me naked before,” Rumi hedges, thinking of their first bath house trip together and forcing herself to drop her arms. “It’s not like any of this is new at this point.”
The steam coming up behind her lets her know the shower is hot enough, so she turns away from them and steps under the showerhead, instantly feeling the tension in her shoulders lift as the hot water beats down on her.
“Yeah, but…” she faintly hears Zoey say. “We didn’t get to look last time.”
“I looked,” Mira says, before taking a deep breath and blowing into the float.
“What! Why didn’t you tell me? I wanted to look too!”
“I’ve got eyes and Rumi’s hot, it’s not my fault you didn’t take the opportunity to look. Besides, you can make up for it this time.”
Rumi’s glad she’s not facing them. She doesn’t know how she’d explain away the heat in her cheeks and the weird feeling in her belly when she thinks about Mira looking at her back then, about Zoey wanting to, about both of them looking at her now.
She reaches for the shampoo and busies herself with washing and conditioning her hair, trying to put it all out of her mind. By the time she’s rinsed out her hair and watching the suds of her body soap swirl down the drain, Zoey pops up next to her with a bright grin, holding out a hair towel.
“We’re ready for you!” she singsongs, sweeping her other arm magnanimously at the fully inflated pool float. Mira shoots them a double thumbs up where she’s squatting next to it and Rumi grins, putting her hair up.
“You don’t need to towel dry,” Zoey says, linking their fingers again, and Rumi loves her all the more for her consistent, casual contact. “The water is a good base for the body scrub, so just come lay down on your stomach.”
She obediently trails along, guided by the light tug of Zoey’s hand.
Mira looks up at them with a small smile where she’s still squatting next to the floatie, affection softening her regal face. She pats it in invitation and Rumi carefully eases down onto her belly, turning her head to rest her cheek on it and grimacing when her bare skin squeaks against the plasticky material.
“Can I just say that it feels weird to be on one of these without a swimsuit on?” she asks, feeling and hearing her own words vibrating against the pool float.
“Oh yeah, I wouldn’t want to be you right now,” Mira says, shuddering. “It seems like a sensory nightmare.”
“...Wow.”
“Okay, but we’re here to make it a sensory dream,” Zoey says, holding up a jar. “Starting with the body scrub!”
She opens the jar and scoops some into her hands, then hands it over to Mira, who follows suit and scoots down towards her legs.
“Ready for us?” she asks, placing a hand on her ankle, and Rumi almost chokes.
“Mmhm,” she manages.
“Excuse us,” Zoey says quietly, and then they’re putting their hands on her, Zoey working on her back and Mira at her feet.
As Zoey works in sweeping circles down her neck, across her shoulders, and past her mid and lower back, Mira exfoliates her heels then makes her way up her calves.
The sensation of getting scrubbed down like this is new, but not unpleasant. It feels like being licked by a cat—an experience she distinctly remembers from the first time Derpy tried a Churu stick—and aside from the fact that her two best friends are touching her naked body, it’s a perfectly normal spa experience.
Rumi’s eyes slip closed and she gradually relaxes into the pool float as they work her down, feeling more than a little like they’re not only sloughing off her dead skin, but the stress of the past twenty years as well.
When Mira’s hands stroke up the back of her thighs, she shivers slightly, but Zoey’s hands are warm on her arm and she settles with a sigh.
“Good?” Mira asks softly, one of her thumbs brushing the surprisingly sensitive skin of her upper leg.
“Mm,” Rumi hums, shifting restlessly. There’s an answering tug in her lower belly every time Mira runs her thumb against her skin and it’s distracting.
“Keep going, please,” she says, and Mira strokes at her inner thighs just as Zoey slides her hand down to rub at the delicate webbing between her fingers.
A noise jumps out of her throat before she can help it, whiny and plaintive.
Both of them stop moving immediately and Rumi’s eyes snap open, ears hot.
“Sorry— I’m sorry. I just. I was— I don’t know what that was.”
Mira squeezes gently at her thigh.
“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it,” she says, voice low.
“Yeah, it’s okay, Rumi,” says Zoey, brushing her thumb soothingly against Rumi’s. “Sometimes things are better than we expect and unexpected sounds come out.”
“Yeah, like the time Zoey bit into her first burrito in months.”
“Oh goddd…” Zoey moans, apparently reminiscing, and Rumi’s ears feel hot for an entirely different reason. She slams her eyes shut again as Zoey says, “Now I want a burrito. Miraaa….”
“We’ll find some time to make it out to Burbank,” Mira promises her. Then, “Really, Rumi, you’re fine. That was a completely natural reaction.”
Rumi lets out a held breath, forcing the tension back out of her muscles.
“Okay,” she says, gratefully accepting the gift she’s been given. She takes another few calming breaths and then says, “You can… continue.”
“Here we go,” Zoey says, moving slowly now as if to let Rumi get used to the intensely intimate feeling of her fingertips stroking at the skin between her fingers.
Mira starts moving as well, exfoliating both of her thighs at the same time, and Rumi distantly wonders if she’s trying to finish quickly so she doesn’t embarrass herself again. She spares a moment to feel disappointed that she’ll stop touching her thighs soon, biting her lip against the dual sensation of Zoey’s fingers sliding erotically between hers and Mira’s thumbs finding her inner thighs with every brush.
It’s somehow a relief when Mira says, “Hey, I’m going to exfoliate your ass now.”
“Go ahead,” Rumi says meekly, focusing better now with Zoey scrubbing down her other arm, her fingers well away from that weirdly sensitive part of her hand.
With her added focus, it’s hard not to notice that Mira’s hands on her ass feel… right. She’s surprised by how nice it is to have her palms cupping at her like this, and rubbing the body scrub in, and squeezing and spreading her—
Zoey rubs at the webbing of her other hand and Rumi’s hips buck down into the pool float, a shaky little nudge that puts pressure on the ache between her thighs. Her teeth click together and the puff of an exhale shudders out from between them.
“Is that… a natural reaction too?” she grits out.
Zoey pets over the skin between her fingers again, and again, and Rumi jerks each time, breath coming short, tiny, helpless noises catching in each gasp.
“Yeah,” Zoey sighs, sounding a little dazed. “Totally natural…”
Mira’s hands curl around her hips, thumbs pressing lightly at two points on her lower back. “Zoey, look,” she says, audible wonder in her voice. “It’s a perfect fit.”
Rumi has no idea what’s she’s talking about, but Zoey makes another sound like she’s biting into a burrito, and she keeps stroking up and down the length of one of her fingers, a slow, indulgent mapping, and Rumi can’t— She just—
“Girls, I’m— It feels so—”
Her voice sounds foreign to her, airy and whimpery. She’s feeling so much and she doesn’t know what to do with it all.
Mira releases her and she almost whines about the loss of contact. Her back arches and her hips lift to chase her hands before she realizes they’re moving and forces them back down.
“Fuck, did you see that?” Mira asks, and the expletive curls hotly in her ear, very nearly making her arch again.
“I’m not going to be able to think about anything else,” Zoey says, sounding absolutely defeated as her fingers stall out. She places Rumi’s hand back down on the float and touches her shoulder.
“Okay, Rumi,” she says. “You can flip over now.”
At this point, Rumi thinks she’d do anything they asked. Her whole body is warm, and her thoughts aren’t fully connecting. All she knows for a fact anymore is that the two of them are making her feel really good.
She ungracefully flops around on the squishy pool float until she’s lying on her back.
They don’t need to warn her that they’re going to touch her now, because she can see it all happening.
Zoey puts her hands on her neck, fingers curling over the sides, and Mira once again moves down her body, starting this time with the tops of her feet. As she scrubs up over her shins and knees, Zoey carefully rubs down her neck before moving on to the front of her arms, though the scrub feels far more perfunctory than before.
Rumi finds that she's actually a little disappointed when she doesn’t touch between her fingers.
But then Mira’s spreading her legs so she has space to work on the front of her thighs, and Zoey’s sliding her hands down her collarbones and over the curve of her breasts, and her breath stutters out.
This time, she can see how Mira’s fingers twitch and the way Zoey bites her lip when she responds.
Zoey runs her hands over her breasts again, fingers brushing across her nipples, and when that makes her want to squeeze her thighs together, she realizes Mira is watching her and keeping her legs spread apart with a hand on either thigh.
“Awww,” she says, and there’s a mocking tone to her voice that makes Rumi attempt to squeeze her legs closed again. “Looks like it almost feels too good, doesn’t it?”
Rumi shakes her head, warm and confused and aching, it—
Zoey twists her nipples and Rumi loses vision for about three seconds, a loud whine tearing out of her throat as mind-numbing pleasure jolts directly between her thighs.
“God, she’s so responsive,” Zoey hushes. “I barely pinched them.”
“She’s perfect,” Mira agrees, hands sliding up and up until her thumbs are brushing at the join where her thighs meet cunt.
Rumi’s hips lift into the touch and Mira smirks.
“We’ll get there,” she says, a promise that makes sweet heat pool honey-thick in her stomach, but before Rumi gets a chance to process it, Mira’s moving her hands away and stroking at her belly instead.
Zoey runs her hands down her sides, and she can’t quite resist the urge to squirm, feeling ticklish and sensitive and restless after Mira had gotten so close to touching her—
Mira pauses, warm fingers splaying over her stomach.
“Too much?” she asks, fingertips gently curling and relaxing against her skin in what Rumi thinks is supposed to be a comforting motion.
“No, I’m just…” Rumi blinks her eyes open and tries not to arch into the way Mira keeps petting at her stomach, a small noise snagging in the back of her throat. She’s feeling too much to finish the sentence. She doesn’t even know where it ends.
Mira searches her face, her other hand coming up to rest at her hip.
“Zoey,” she says, sounding thoughtful as she runs her thumb across Rumi’s hipbone, “I think she’s ready for the massage.”
—
Rumi’s legs are shaky when she stands up to rinse off, but thankfully she makes it over to the shower without slipping.
Zoey follows after her, dragging the pool float along for a rinse of its own.
“We’ll reuse this for the massage,” she says, nose crinkling adorably with the force of her smile. “I’m so glad it came in handy.”‘
—
“Okay, so now we’re gonna rub this oil into you so you’re nice and hydrated and soft,” Zoey explains. “Did you know that the best time to put lotion on is immediately after a shower? So it’s a good thing that we’re doing this right now.”
“Love your skin so it can love you back,” Mira says sagely.
Rumi manages a small laugh, feeling enough distance from whatever had been happening before to allow herself a moment of levity.
“I’m so glad I have you two to love it for me.”
She goes still. That… probably sounds worse than she’d meant it. She really doesn’t mind her patterns much anymore, especially now that they're more iridescent, and maybe Zoey joking one time that she reminded her of a holographic Pokémon card had helped with the rest.
“Um, so, how do you want me?” she asks.
Mira raises an eyebrow and Zoey bites her lip.
“For the massage,” Rumi amends, flustered.
“From behind,” Mira says, and Zoey elbows her.
“We’ll take you on your stomach,” Zoey says, and Mira whips her head around with an incredulous look on her face.
Rumi thinks she might implode.
“I mean—! Please lay on your stomach,” Zoey says squeakily.
Rumi hurries to comply, wanting to hide the red flush blotching up her cheeks and chest.
For a moment the room is silent aside from the ridiculous sound of skin on vinyl, but then Rumi settles, pillowing her head on her arms.
“This should feel better than the scrub, but let us know if you need more or less pressure, okay?” Zoey says.
“Okay,” she says, eyes drifting closed again.
The massage is heavenly, and it’s something she somehow doesn’t realize she needs until it’s happening.
“Oh my goddd,” she moans long and low as Mira and Zoey massage the knots in her calves. “That feels so good.”
“Careful,” Mira says mildly, “someone might get the wrong idea.”
“What? That you two make me feel good?” she asks, voice sounding a little squished from the way her head is resting on her arms.
“Okayyy, the right idea,” Zoey says, working up her thigh.
Rumi hums into the touch, idly wishing she’d run her hands up even higher. Like maybe where Mira had put her hands earlier.
“It’s not like I haven’t been making incriminating sounds this whole time,” she mumbles, thinking about Mira’s thumbs brushing so close to…
“Feels different when you’re still capable of using your words,” Mira mutters, massaging her other thigh.
“...Different?”
Zoey snorts.
“Don’t mind her, Rumi. Mira isn’t satisfied until she manages to make a girl nonverbal.”
That… makes all sorts of questions pop up. But the two of them move from her thighs, to her ass, to her back and arms, and she lets the questions slide right back out of her mind as all the stubborn knots in her body get patiently and skillfully worked out.
“Flip over,” Mira says eventually, and Rumi complies, moving slow as she remembers that she has a body and that all her body parts are, in fact, still connected.
Zoey scoots in behind her before she can lay down on the float.
“Just lay back against me,” she says, “like I’m your little backrest.”
Rumi huffs a soft laugh and complies without complaint. If it means they’ll keep touching her and fixing all the tight spots all over her body, she’d be willing to stand on her head if that would help.
The massage continues, thorough and unhurried. The only difference is Rumi finds that her breath syncs with Zoey’s, the gentle rise and fall of her chest against her back rocking her almost imperceptibly, as soothing as the sound of lapping waves. It's hypnotic, and as she watches them work—mostly sticking to the fleshier parts of her body and all the troublesome junction points where bones connect—she feels a tugging in her lower belly again, warm and mellow but still undeniable.
“Rumi, I love your patterns,” Zoey sighs softly, fingers digging into the tender joint where the front of her arm meets torso.
“Mm,” Rumi hums, breathing through the pain. “You do?”
“Yeah,” Zoey says, continuing to work at that achey spot. “I love how they catch the light. Like you’re already so beautiful, it’s hard not to look at you. But now you have these”—she follows the angular path of a pattern that zigzags down her side with her other hand—”and it’s like everywhere you go, there’s a spotlight on you.”
Rumi shivers at her touch, at her words. The explicit reassurance that she isn't afraid after seeing and touching all of her—that she even likes what she sees—makes her feel impossibly loved. She feels like a firefly carefully cupped in her hands—safe and glowing, admired for something beyond her control, free to just be for a moment.
“It’s kind of embarrassing,” she mumbles, trying to wrangle her heart back into her chest. “I don’t want to draw any more attention.”
Mira shakes her head with a wry smile.
“I think it’s too late for that,” she says. “You shouldn’t have been born so beautiful.”
Rumi altogether gives up on trying to calm her heart down.
“You’re one to talk,” she says, delighted by the way it makes Mira’s eyes go wide for a moment.
Instead of acknowledging it, or the fact that her cheeks are turning pink, Mira settles her hands at her waist.
“I love these ones,” she says, tracing down one of the shimmery patterns on her belly. “They’re so erotic.”
Rumi’s face grows hot.
Erotic? She’s never thought about her marks like that before.
Zoey nods vigorously, chin bumping at Rumi’s shoulder.
“Ooh, I know exactly what you mean,” she says, splaying her fingers over her ribs, massage forgotten. “Like they draw the eye and once you notice them, you can’t stop wondering if they go all the way down.”
Mira grins, still following one of her marks with her fingers.
“But of course,” she says, sounding smug, dipping lower and lower until her fingers rest over the patch of hair between her legs, “we know they do.”
Rumi sucks in a sharp breath, trying not to be too obvious about the way her hips are starting to rock up into her hand.
The gleam in Mira’s eyes lets her know it hadn’t been nearly as subtle as she may have hoped.
“I said we’d get there…” Mira says, lightly petting with her fingers. “Looks like someone wants it now.”
Zoey giggles and it jostles Rumi.
“Are you gonna give it to her?”
Mira smiles slowly.
“Yeah, I think I will,” she says. Her smile grows wider when Rumi whines and lifts into her hand more overtly. “Look at her… she’s asking so nicely.”
Zoey sighs indulgently, brushing her lips against Rumi’s shoulder and skimming her hands down her sides to grip at her waist.
“She really is,” she says.
“Who am I to deny her?” Mira says. And then she’s moving down and spreading Rumi’s legs to fit between them.
Rumi’s breath hitches from the look she gives her from between her legs, and then hitches again when Zoey’s hands come up to cup her breasts.
“Gosh, you’re pretty,” Zoey hushes, breath curling warm against the shell of her ear, gliding her fingers over her nipples. And yes, she’s said it before—said it when she was looking at her earlier—but it’s so different like this.
Rumi trembles, heat blossoming in her belly.
Mira rests her cheek against her thigh, squeezing gently at her spread legs.
“Gorgeous,” she agrees, and then she’s trailing kisses along her inner thigh, nipping in jagged lines as she follows her meandering patterns.
Rumi sighs and shifts against the pool float, sinking into the softness of Zoey's body at her back as Mira presses kiss after kiss to first one thigh, then the other, warm palms holding her legs apart.
The first wet flick of her tongue against her skin makes Rumi gasp, hips bucking up and hands falling to rest atop her head. She can feel the smile Mira brushes against her thigh and it makes her feel a little shy, but she affectionately scratches at her scalp and almost tears up when Mira hums and leans into her touch.
"Wait," she says, a thought occurring to her a moment later. "The massage oil…?"
Mira makes eye contact with her, raising an eyebrow in a devastatingly attractive look that will probably haunt her dreams.
"I don't give a shit," she says bluntly, and then she drags her tongue in a warm, wet stroke over a mark on her thigh.
A high-pitched whine makes its way out of Rumi's throat as Zoey chooses that exact moment to roll her nipples between her fingers, and as if responding to a starting pistol, Mira starts licking and sucking at her skin. She takes her time, marking her up over her patterns, and before long a series of blotchy, purple-red bruises appear over the shimmering lines.
While Mira teases at her thighs, Zoey plays with her nipples, tugging and pinching and scraping her nails across them, smiling wild and hungry when Rumi arches into her hands and squirms against her and god it's just—
Her fingers spasm against Mira's scalp, hips feeling heavy and achey from the combined assault of tongue and fingers against such sensitive parts of her body. She feels like she's slowly melting under their attention, like condensation on the side of a glass on a hot day—a solitary breeze away from dripping all over their fingers.
She's trembling and dissolving and there's a tension between her legs that keeps building and building with each wet kiss to her inner thigh, each tug to her nipple, and she just wants—
Mira finally fits her mouth against her, hot and slick, licking at her and through her, moaning loud as her hands cup at her ass to keep her from bucking away and it's—
“That good?” Zoey asks Mira, sounding excited.
She lets out a muffled groan, pushing her foggy glasses to the top of her head without taking her mouth off of her. She nods—eyelids drooping with satisfaction—and her tongue drags against her clit, sending sparks of pleasure racing up her spine.
“I want a taste,” Zoey says, breathless, and Rumi whimpers, feeling so loved and desired it’s almost unbearable.
Mira licks at her one more time, then smoothly replaces her tongue with two fingers as she pulls away, surging up to kiss Zoey.
Zoey moans, burying her fingers into Mira’s hair to drag her closer.
Rumi watches them kiss over her shoulder, leaning to the side so she's not as cross-eyed, feeling out of breath herself as Zoey hungrily licks into Mira’s mouth like she wants more of her taste off her tongue. Her body winds tighter and tighter as she watches them, stomach twinging as Mira keeps teasing at her clit, as Zoey thumbs across her nipples.
Zoey finally pulls away to gasp, “Fuck, Rumi, you taste so good.”
Then she’s tilting her chin with a finger, murmuring, “Here, you try,” and fitting their mouths together.
There really isn't much left to taste, but she can smell herself on Zoey’s face from where she’s rubbed against Mira, and it makes her hips ache. She quickly yields any semblance of control as she kisses her to within an inch of her life, merely whimpering into her mouth and feeling incandescent with pleasure.
Mira’s mouth suddenly returns between her thighs and she completely forgets how to kiss back, only vaguely aware of the fact that needy little sounds are slipping past her unmoving lips. There’s nothing she can do to bring her focus back towards making her mouth work when Mira’s tongue keeps flickflicking at her—
Zoey giggles and tugs at her lower lip with her teeth.
“You’re so cute like this,” she says, pressing her grin to her cheek. “It’s too bad you’re a little too preoccupied to kiss me, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do something with your pretty mouth.”
And then she’s slipping two fingers past her lips and half-pressing, half-rubbing at her tongue.
There’s a brief moment where Rumi feels confused, but then Mira digs her nails into her ass and she’s bucking her hips and whining around Zoey's fingers, tongue slicking against the length of them as her body clenches around nothing.
“There we go,” Zoey says, sounding immensely pleased with herself.
Rumi whimpers a pathetic mewling sound as the fullness in her mouth makes her suddenly aware of how agonizingly empty her cunt feels. She rolls her hips up, dragging her throbbing clit against Mira’s tongue, asking without asking, not knowing the words even if she had to use them.
Mira hums in delight at her enthusiasm, freeing one hand and dragging her nails up her inner thigh. Then she presses the flat of her tongue up against her in fat little nudges that have her keening and trying to both grind against her mouth and pull her hips back, feeling too much and not enough and everything in between.
“Ohhh, Rumi,” Zoey says tenderly, sliding her free hand down to press against her belly. “Are you gonna come for us?”
Rumi nearly chokes on a gasp, ears burning, the tension throbbing in the sling of her hips threatening to overflow. She whines helplessly, sucking at Zoey’s fingers with a desperation that would probably embarrass her if she weren’t just. Feeling so—
Mira fits a finger right up against her, sinking in in in as Zoey brings the hand on her belly back up to her nipple to twist—
She comes abruptly, pleasure and pain and the sensation of being filled up like this for the first time culminating into something sloppy and convulsive. There’s a combination of sweat and massage oil sticking her thighs to the ridiculous pool float, and she can feel her chin smearing with her own spit with Zoey’s fingers still in her mouth. She’s vaguely aware of biting down on them because she can hear her quiet hiss of pain, but she’s helpless to do anything with all her nerve endings lighting up. The noises tearing out of her throat are loud and ragged even with her mouth full, heaving gasps turning up at the end as divine bliss breaks her open.
She has no idea how much time she spends in that state of absolute pleasure, but it’s all she can do to remember her own name.
Zoey is nuzzling at her jaw when she regains awareness outside of the satisfaction suffusing every cell of her body, pressing small kisses to her skin and bumping her nose against her like an affectionate cat.
Mira is still between her legs, licking slow in a clearly indulgent manner, and each long drag of her tongue sends Rumi into another round of shuddering aftershocks.
She unclenches her teeth and starts to apologize for biting the shit out of Zoey’s fingers, but Zoey enthusiastically sticks them in Mira’s face, wiggling them.
“Mira, Mira look! She’s bitey.”
Mira squints at Zoey’s fingers and reluctantly pulls her mouth away to answer, “Yeah, ‘cause you stuck them in her mouth.”
Zoey huffs and wraps both arms around Rumi’s midriff, resting her cheek on her shoulder.
“I wanted to hear what she sounds like when she moans with her mouth full,” she says, pouting, and Rumi whines softly, cheeks flushing. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
Mira drops her glasses back onto her nose, wiping her chin and dragging her eyes up her body in a manner that is so obviously appreciative that Rumi practically feels it.
“A pretty girl making pretty noises? Color me surprised,” she says dryly.
She presses a tender, lingering kiss to her upper thigh, then crawls up her body, looking so devastatingly beautiful that Rumi swallows nervously by the time they're face-to-face.
“Hey,” Mira says lowly, and maybe a single word shouldn’t make Rumi feel like her cheeks are on fire, but it does.
“Hi,” she says, breathier and shyer than she intends.
“Did you enjoy kissing Zoey?” Mira asks, looking at her lips.
Rumi nods quickly, not trusting herself to speak. Zoey squeezes her with a quiet, flattered Awww.
“I like kissing her too,” Mira says, and then she’s leaning in and kissing her softly, gently, like she doesn’t want to scare her away—as if she ever could.
Rumi hums into the kiss, fully tasting herself on Mira's tongue for the first time, and the salty tang is all the more exciting coming off of how sweet Mira tastes. She shivers as one more little aftershock strokes up her spine, lifting a hand to cup Mira’s face and finding Zoey’s hand with the other.
Zoey snuggles closer, brushing her lips to her back as Mira kisses the corner of her mouth, her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, and it almost shocks Rumi how comfortable she feels sandwiched between the two of them, casually touching and kissing each other. She wonders at the simplicity of falling together like this.
Mira sits back on her heels with an easy smile.
“I think I’m about ready to move this out of the bathroom,” she says. “Let’s go cuddle.”
—
As Rumi carefully untwists her hair out of the hair towel, deeming it dry enough to air dry the rest of the way, Mira stores the remainder of the body scrub and massage oil in the cabinet under the sink, and Zoey unplugs the stopper on the pool float to let it deflate on its own. With all of that taken care of, she leads them to her room.
“We just got you out of your room. If we went back in now you might go right back to thinking about working,” she says, by way of explanation.
Rumi nods with a sheepish smile and accepts the underwear and oversized, baby blue shirt Mira grabs for her. While she puts them on, Zoey changes into a light pink, cropped longsleeve shirt and white shorts, and Mira opts for a dark teal muscle tank top and gray sweatpants.
As they pile onto Zoey’s bed, Zoey curls into her and Mira stretches out on her other side, offering her arm as a pillow.
For a time there’s nothing but contented silence and the quiet enjoyment of all the places they’re touching, but eventually Zoey starts aimlessly tracing the patterns on her arm and Mira joins in moments later, shifting onto her side and sliding her hand up under her shirt to map out the ones on her belly.
Rumi tries not to shiver, but her skin still feels so sensitive after the body scrub, massage, and—
“Hey, so, you really looked like you liked having Mira inside of you,” Zoey says suddenly, and Rumi immediately feels a warm ache between her legs as she relives the memory of Mira’s mouth on her and finger pressing in—
“So like…” Zoey continues, propping herself up on her elbow, “do you want to be fucked?”
The question is crass and the phrasing is filthy and her body clenches automatically, as if already trained to want.
A very small part of her wonders at the fact that she wants more again so soon, if maybe it’s a little unusual to be so eager for it, but Zoey is explicitly asking and Mira’s fingers are following her patterns lower and lower and, god, she just wants whatever they’ll give her.
“Yes,” she says.
Zoey turns to Mira, beaming.
“Mira, she wants to be fucked.”
“So I heard,” Mira says, licking her lips. She looks down at Rumi, and while there’s an unmistakably hungry set to her face, she also seems like she’s considering something.
“I want to watch you fuck her,” Zoey says, voice dropping the way it does when she’s rapping her heart out.
Rumi squeezes her thighs together, breath hitching slightly.
Mira notices her reaction and makes a soft sound in her throat before dipping to kiss her, a teasing brush of lip against lip that makes Rumi want to chase her mouth for more.
“I’m not saying no,” Mira says softly, so close she can feel every word. “I really, really want to fuck you, Rumi, but Zoey likes it thick.”
“I want it,” Rumi blurts, before she can think about it. “I can take it.”
She has absolutely no frame of reference and loves that Mira is trying to be careful with her, but she can handle it. She's pretty sure she can handle anything at this point. She just wants more—an unshakeable energy buzzing under her skin in the same way it had when they’d remade the Honmoon.
Mira kisses her once more, harder this time, grabbing her chin and scraping her teeth against her lower lip. It pulls a quiet noise out of her and Mira licks into her mouth, nodding into the kiss until she’s sliding her tongue against Rumi’s. It feels more than a little like she’s rewarding her for saying the right thing.
When Rumi is light-headed from forgetting to breathe, Mira pulls away just far enough to press their foreheads together for a moment, then fully releases her, brushing her thumb over her kiss-damp lip.
“Okay, I’ll go get ready,” she concedes.
“You’re gonna love this,” Zoey promises her for the second time, sliding her hand over her torso to squeeze at her waist. “It’s so good when it’s thick.”
Rumi absolutely believes her, on both counts.
—
When Mira shows up at the door again, the first thing Rumi notices is the strappy black leather coming up over the waistband of her sweatpants. The second thing she notices is the obscene bulge tenting the front of them.
Her mouth waters, and it takes her a second to realize the soft whine she hears is coming out of her own mouth.
“Oh my god,” Zoey says, squeezing at her hip again in absolute delight. “You want it so bad.”
Mira steps up to the side of the bed and Rumi can’t take her eyes off of the shape of whatever’s in her pants, clit throbbing.
“Rumi, you’re gonna make me blush,” Mira says, voice husky.
Rumi can barely focus. She just wants her pants down. She sits up and crawls toward the edge of the bed on all fours, reaching for her waistband.
All the air gets sucked out of the room when she rolls her sweatpants down.
The cock springing up to greet her is a near match in color to Mira's hair, and it is without a shred of doubt, thick.
Curious, she reaches out and tries to wrap her hand around it.
Her thumb and fingers don’t quite meet.
She bites her lip, squeezing gently, then runs her fingers from tip to base, surprised at how firm yet texturally soft it is.
Mira sucks in a short breath, swaying slightly as she touches her.
“Can you… feel it?” Rumi asks, pausing with her fingers resting on the head of her cock.
“Not as little as you might think, but not quite as much as I’d want,” Mira says.
Zoey hums, settling cross-legged next to her and slipping her hand up the back of her shirt to trace meandering circles over her skin.
“You wouldn’t think it though, the way she gets when you suck her off.”
Rumi’s eyes widen and she finally manages to pull her eyes away to look up at Mira, who’s definitely blushing so hard the tips of her ears are red.
“Zoey…” she says, a hint of warning in her voice.
“What? It’s true,” Zoey says, shrugging casually. “You love it when I’m on my knees for you.”
Mira huffs an exhale, crossing her arms.
“As if you aren’t any better, looking up at me so sweetly with your mouth open and begging for—”
Rumi opens her mouth and leans forward, sinking a couple inches down onto Mira’s cock. The two of them go silent.
“Holy fuck,” Zoey says.
“Holy fuck,” Mira agrees.
Rumi moans softly, flattening her tongue up against the bottom of Mira’s dick to get it slick with her spit. There’s a stretch in her jaw that hadn’t quite been there with Zoey’s fingers in her mouth and it’s exquisite. She bobs lower and lower still until all she can feel is how full her mouth is, how full her throat is, how swollen and achey her clit is.
“What the fuck,” Mira gasps, and she’s twisting her hands in Rumi’s hair, neither pulling her closer nor pushing her away. Just hanging on.
Zoey groans next to her, fingers twitching against her back, then simply says, “Rumi, you’re perfect.”
Rumi moans again, not sure why she’s getting such a reaction but letting the praise wash over her anyway.
She swallows carefully around the cock in her throat, then slowly backs off until she can lick the tip, running her tongue from under the flared head to the little divot at the top.
Mira gasps, fists clenching at her hair and hips shuddering away.
Rumi lets out a disappointed noise when it puts her a little too far for her to keep going.
“Rumi,” Mira says, and there’s a seriousness to her low voice that makes her look up. “I need you to know that if you keep doing that, I’m going to want to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk.”
Zoey laughs.
“Uh oh, you’ve flipped her switch,” she says. “Better watch out, Rumi, she really means it.”
Rumi glances over at her, mind fuzzy from wanting her cock back in her throat, but wondering…
“Have you—?” she starts to ask.
“Oh, yeah,” Zoey says, stretching her arms above her head and treating her to the loveliest view of her nipples dragging against the cotton of her soft shirt. “Last time I sucked her dick, she fucked me in like twenty different positions and made me come so hard I almost cried.”
And the thought of Zoey under Mira, or sitting in her lap, or… in some other position, cheeks flushed and whining as something that big fucks into her makes her head spin.
She desperately wants to know what that would be like.
“It was only five positions, and you did cry,” Mira says, tension a palpable thrum in every line of her lean body. “But you took it all so well for me.”
Zoey bites her lip, eyes hooding.
“Hey, now,” she says, “you were in the middle of promising Rumi the time of her life, not me.”
Rumi nods, looking up at Mira hopefully.
“Ah, shit,” Mira says, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes for two beats. “Last chance, Rumi.”
Maybe she should be a little apprehensive, but she knows neither of them could ever hurt her. They’ve proven that even with a justifiable reason, they simply wouldn’t.
So she just licks her lips and says, “Please.”
Mira drops her fists to her sides, clenching and unclenching them as she lets out a slow breath.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she says, and then a haughty, dangerous look crosses her face and Rumi can’t look away.
Mira steps closer again, twisting her hands back into her hair as she nudges her hard cock against her lips.
“Open,” she says, and Rumi obediently opens her mouth.
Her jaw stretches as Mira presses in, jogging her hips lightly to push deeper, and as if she were put on this Earth for no other reason than to let Mira fuck her throat, her mouth fills with spit to ease the way until she slowly slides all the way in.
“God,” Zoey hushes, slipping her hand back under her shirt to brush at her spine. “She really just takes it all so easily.”
“Yeah, fuck,” Mira grunts, curling inward as her hips nudgenudge forward.
And it's like this that Rumi learns that the hardest thing about having her throat full is breathing—nose pressed to the leather harness, blearily looking up at her—but she swallows once and once again, doing her best to breathe around the dick in her throat, before Mira draws her hips back.
The drag of her cock as she carefully pulls out is unlike anything Rumi’s ever felt. She feels used and filthy and it makes her pulse throb in her clit.
Mira rubs the tip of her dick against Rumi’s lips and it’s all she can do to not open her mouth right back up and swallow her down.
“More, please,” she says softly, each word brushing like a kiss to the head of her pretty cock.
Mira’s eyes flash.
“Greedy,” she says, tugging at her hair. But she pushes past her lips and drives her hips forward and Rumi moans, cock so deliciously heavy on her tongue she doesn’t care if asking for it is greedy.
She rocks back into nothing with a muffled whine as Mira hits the back of her throat. Her clit is so swollen even the faintest pressure she feels rubbing against her underwear is enough to take the edge off.
Zoey’s hands ruck up her shirt and find the waistband of her underwear, tugging them down to her thighs.
“Shit, Rumi. You’re dripping,” she says breathily. Her fingers press up to collect some of her slick, and then they’re gliding against her clit in a slippery little stroke and it’s—
She whimpers, hips chasing Zoey’s fingers to no avail. She clenches around nothing and swallows around Mira’s cock, aching—
“Are you gonna let her have it?” Mira asks, backing out halfway and then pushing back in before Rumi can whine about the loss of that sensation too.
“Yeah, I think I have to,” Zoey says with a happy sigh. And then blessedly, she’s pressing her hand back up so Rumi’s clit bumps against it again. “She’s so wet, Mira. And look at her, she’s just so cute when she’s needy.”
Rumi desperately rubs herself against her fingers in jittery fits and starts, almost too sensitive now that she's finally getting direct stimulation, the backs of her ears warm from the inexplicable praise.
The tension in her belly draws tighter and tighter as Zoey uses her other hand to tease her—thumbing over her nipples, brushing at her sides, mapping the ridges of her spine, squeezing at her ass—and it’s making Rumi vibrate like a plucked guitar string. She wants more—more of Mira’s hands pulling at her hair, more of her cock in her mouth and throat, more of Zoey letting her shakily rut into her hand while tantalizing her with fleeting touches.
Rumi groans, a lewd muffled sound, arms and thighs shaking, so close to—
Mira pulls all the way out and Rumi gasps—suddenly, unbearably empty.
Her hips lose their rhythm against Zoey’s fingers and falter to a stop as she looks up at Mira with her mouth still open, confused.
She can’t—
She doesn’t—
The words won’t come to her so she lets out a questioning whine.
Mira huffs a laugh.
“Look at you,” she says, catching her chin on her fingertips, voice practically a purr. She brushes her thumb over Rumi’s lower lip, a tender motion at odds with the intensity of her gaze. “Such a pretty girl when you can’t use your words anymore.”
Rumi’s breath hitches and Mira slips her thumb into her mouth. She automatically closes her lips around it and sucks, tongue dragging against the pad, desperate for something in her mouth now that she’s had it twice before.
“Yeah?” Mira asks, slowly starting to thrust her thumb in and out of her mouth. “Has your mouth been this wet for me? Is this what you’ve been doing to my cock?”
Rumi shudders, making pitiful little noises she’s never heard coming out of herself before. She reaches for her and shakily jerks her off, trying to reconcile what she’s sucking in her mouth with the weight and girth in her hand.
Zoey abruptly slides her fingers against her clit in a slick motion, and Rumi jerks with a gasp.
“Told you she gets a type of way when girls go nonverbal,” she says, teasing at her clit. “It’s fucking hot though, isn’t it?”
Rumi practically sobs her agreement, nodding helplessly, clenching around nothing and feeling like her mouth just isn’t full enough.
“It’s not enough now, is it?” Mira says, an almost vicious smirk on her face, like she can somehow read her thoughts. Her thumb presses down at her tongue. “You want more, don’t you?”
“Mmhm, mmhm,” Rumi responds, whiny, and she knows it sounds needy, knows it but doesn’t care when Zoey is making her thighs shake and Mira is looking at her so expectantly. She flattens her tongue against her thumb and pumps her fist over her cock to show her just how much she wants it.
Mira hums thoughtfully, looking at Zoey and then back at her. “You can have it if you can take three of Zoey’s fingers.”
Rumi moans and nods immediately—eager to agree if it means Mira will fill her mouth again—and Zoey laughs softly.
“I’m certainly not going to complain about that condition,” she says cheerfully, rolling her fingers in a tight little circle over Rumi’s aching clit.
Her vision nearly whites out again, hand and jaw going slack. She feels so tense, every muscle in her body coiled in wait for release.
“Perfect,” Mira says. “This is going to be so pretty to watch.”
And then she’s freeing her thumb from Rumi’s mouth, gently removing her stalled hand from her dick, and taking a step back so Rumi can’t reach her without falling off the bed.
Rumi whines again, but Zoey’s hands are suddenly everywhere, pushing her shirt up so she can palm at her breasts and stroke at the patterns running down her sides and rake her nails down her back.
Her whole body is so sensitive, it feels like every brush of her fingers is leaving behind a trail of heat and pleasure. She writhes and whimpers and arches into her touch, clit so swollen and achy that even contact with the air seems like enough to drive her crazy.
“Let’s have some fun,” Zoey says by her ear, draping her soft, warm body over Rumi’s back, hand returning between her legs.
And before Rumi can even try to formulate a response with her heavy tongue, the fabric of Zoey's clothes drags against her mostly naked body—a lewd reminder that she's a dripping, desperate mess with her clothes still partially on—and Zoey is nudging a finger up against her cunt and sliding right in.
Rumi gasps at the unexpected sensation, clenching around her in little pulses, the throbbing in her clit almost dangerously hard to ignore.
Zoey presses a soothing kiss to her back.
“Don’t come yet,” she murmurs, lips moving against her skin. “You’re so wet from sucking Mira’s dick, my finger just slipped right in. I know you can take two, easy.”
Rumi whimpers and Zoey pulls back out, slip sliding her fingers through her as if to prove just how wet she is. Then she settles two of them back up against her and slowly presses in.
It’s at this point that Rumi realizes her underwear still isn’t even fully off, and she worries that she needs them to be for this to work. The fabric seems to be keeping her legs from spreading too much wider, and two fingers feel obviously thicker than just one and she just doesn't know if—
Zoey slides her other hand up, cupping her breast and running her thumbnail over her nipple until she gasps, elbows wobbling, eyelids drooping shut as she inexplicably feels each brush like a lick to her clit.
"You can do it," Zoey says softly. "Nice and easy."
And somehow, with Zoey encouraging her, her knees come apart just a centimeter more and her hips drop lower, and suddenly she has two fingers inside of her all the way to the knuckle.
“God. That was… You feel so good,” Zoey whispers, cheek pressed to the skin of her back.
Rumi squeezes around her, head dropping below her shoulderblades as she pants and tries not to let the delicious stretch of her cunt push her over the edge.
“She really does, doesn’t she,” Mira agrees, and when Rumi manages to force her head back up to look at her, she’s working her hand over her cock as she watches them, the circle of her fingers and thumb spreading to accommodate her girth.
Rumi gawks at her, cunt clenching around Zoey’s fingers in an uncontrollable series of wet little strokes.
Zoey lets out a shocked laugh.
“She really likes watching you do that,” she observes.
Mira raises an eyebrow, intrigued.
“Is that right…” she muses, eyes all over Rumi’s sweaty, flushed face. She lifts her chin slightly, keeping her hand still and fucking into it instead to see her reaction.
Rumi’s jaw goes slack and she makes a hungry noise in the back of her throat, mindlessly rocking back into Zoey’s fingers in time with the way Mira pumps her hips.
An immensely smug look works its way onto Mira’s face, the corner of her pretty lips turning up.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, voice dripping with sugary condescension.
Rumi whines softly, the pet name sending a shivery thrill up her spine.
Mira licks her lips.
“Take it slow with the last finger, Zoey,” she says, slowing her own hips down. “Let her watch.”
“You got it.”
And with that, Mira starts thrusting into her hand like she's trying to drive Rumi crazy, moving at a pace so measured and unhurried that Rumi can't find any relief rocking back into Zoey's fingers at the same speed. She bites her lip, letting out a frustrated whimper, the ache between her hips refusing to be soothed. The tension in her belly feels like it's at a high simmer, verging on a boil if Mira would just. Thrust. A little faster.
Her brows furrow as she tries to will Mira into speeding up, but she just smirks and keeps going at the same glacial pace. And so Rumi has to deal with the slow burn in the sling of her hips, clit aching as she clenches around Zoey's fingers and watches, riveted, as Mira fucks into her hand.
She swallows against the way her mouth waters, remembering how it felt to have her in her throat, thinking about Zoey somehow taking it inside of her over and over and over—
Mira draws her hips back until her fingers are just under the flared head of her dick, then back even further, resting just her tip in her hand. At the same time, Zoey fits three fingers up against her, and Rumi's pulse spikes as her anxiety rises. Three fingers is definitely a lot, and now that it's happening, she actually doesn't know if she can do it.
"I've got you," Zoey says, putting a comforting hand at her hip. "D'you trust me?"
Rumi exhales slowly, nodding.
"Good," she says. "I didn't think I'd be able to take three fingers at first either, but Mira was so sweet and so gentle with me it just kinda… happened? So we'll go nice and slow and it won't hurt, okay?"
"Okay…" Rumi says in a scratchy little whisper, and she realizes that it's the first thing she's said since taking Mira's dick into her throat. She swallows, eyes darting over to where Mira's standing, cock in hand, a soft look on her face as she watches Zoey reassure her.
"All right, here we go…"
Despite how slowly she moves, and how she keeps her hand on her hip to ground her, Rumi still tenses up when she feels Zoey gently nudge up against her with three fingertips.
"I honestly don't know if—"
"Shh, okay. It's okay," Zoey says, thumb rubbing at her skin. "We'll work our way up. You can take two, you know that already. So we'll start from there again."
"…Okay."
Zoey slides her fingers against her clit, a couple teasing brushes to get her hips to relax, and then she starts easing two fingers in.
Rumi breathes out, lightly clenching around the stretch as Zoey carefully rocks them in deeper and deeper.
"Not too bad?" she asks, peppering kisses to her back and skimming her free hand over her outer thigh.
"Mm, not too bad," Rumi says, a little breathy.
"Okay then, we'll just stay like this for a while," she says, bringing the hand at her thigh up to rub light circles over her clit.
Rumi's breath hitches at the contact, hips shuddering forward and down, clenching so hard she almost pushes Zoey's fingers back out.
Zoey merely laughs and cups between her legs instead.
"Sensitive," she observes, nuzzling at her skin and sliding her fingers back in to the knuckles.
Something about the way her hand fits up against her this time makes pleasure run up Rumi's spine. She gasps and arches, and this time her body almost seems to tug at Zoey's fingers, pulling them the slightest bit deeper.
"Oh…?" Zoey says, and the smile she can hear in her voice makes her feel shy.
"I don't— It feels really good," she tries to explain, perhaps unnecessarily as her body tugs again, and then again.
"Good," Zoey says, sounding delighted. "That's a good sign."
On the next little tugtug, Zoey pulls her fingers back and Rumi whines, the dragging sensation intensifying as her cunt tightens around her.
This time, when Zoey nudges a third finger against her, she eagerly rocks back to take it.
Zoey steadies her with a hand over her belly.
"Easy," she says. "I know you want it but we still have to go slow, babe."
Rumi shivers, the back of her neck growing warm. All these little endearments are making her feel so…
Zoey's fingertips sink in and it takes a second before the sensation registers.
"Was that…?" she starts.
"Mhm," Zoey hums. "Just my fingertips so far, but that's three."
"Oh," she breathes, a mix of relief and pride mingling in the space of her chest.
Zoey starts gently rocking her fingers, not quite pushing in, just testing for resistance, and the hand on her belly is comforting and constant, providing a steady, grounding pressure as Rumi gets used to the stretch of three fingertips.
When Rumi tries to push her hips back to take more, Zoey presses her grin to her back.
"Okay," she says, "we can try a little more."
And slowly, slowly, she presses in further.
As promised, it doesn't hurt, but it's also. A lot. It's a lot of fingers, and before today she's never even had one inside of her, and even after getting warmed up and getting used to two, the stretch of three feels—
"Rumi? Are you doing okay?" Zoey asks, petting at her belly.
"Um," she says, more whine than word. "Yes? I think— um. I can't—"
Her words once again fail her until all she can manage are the tiniest little whimpers as she tries to acclimate to the stretch.
“Relax,” Zoey says, stroking at her side, down her back, over her inner thighs. “Relax for me, Rumi.”
Rumi shivers, a soft noise slipping past her lips, trying trying trying to do as she’s told.
She can’t—
Mira drops to her knees in front of her, cupping her face in her soft palms.
"Hey, hey, it's okay. Look at me," she says quietly, thumbs brushing tenderly at her cheeks.
It takes Rumi an extended moment, but she eventually focuses on her face, eventually pulls her mind away from how fucking tight it feels and lets herself be soothed by her touch.
"There you are, sweet girl," Mira says with a fond smile. "Just look at me. You can do it."
Rumi looks at her and looks at her and remembers what Zoey had said earlier about Mira being so sweet and gentle with her, and then a more complete understanding hits as something inside of her just… softens. And her body pulls at Zoey's fingers until they slide deeper. And deeper. Until her knuckles are pressed right up against her.
"Oh—" Zoey gasps.
And god—
The sheer stretch, the breathtaking fullness of having her three knuckles deep is making it hard to think of anything else. She whimpers helplessly, every little micromovement drawing her attention back and back again to how fucking full she is.
Mira looks at her with an adoring expression.
"See?" she says, leaning in and kissing her. "I knew you could do it."
And then her expression shifts, a subtle rewriting, the tenderness glossing over into something distinctively imperious.
"And now you get your reward," she says, releasing her face and standing up.
For two breaths, Rumi has no idea what she's talking about. But then her eyes drop to the cock between her legs as if magnetized, and her mouth opens before she even realizes she's reacting.
Mira's eyes flash and she steps forward, fingers tangling in her hair.
"Greedy, greedy girl," she says, voice low, and it feels like a compliment.
Rumi moans and it gets muffled as Mira thrusts her hips forward, dick sliding blessedly heavy on her tongue, and just as before, her mouth dutifully fills with saliva as her jaw stretches.
Zoey brushes a gentle circle over her clit as Mira pushes into her throat and she clenches so hard around her fingers, it feels like her body hiccups. A guttural sound ekes out of her as she shudders, throat and cunt both so full. They're filling her up so completely that there's barely enough room for her to breathe, to think, to remember who she is.
All that's left of her is carved out of the space they take as they fuck into her, staking their claim and marking her as theirs because after this she can't possibly be anyone else's.
Her mind goes hazy, focusing only on how big Mira feels in her throat, how stretched she is over three of Zoey's fingers, how tense her body feels as they lovingly guide her to the edge together, one deep stroke at a time.
She feels like—
She feels like a toy. Stuffed so completely from throat to cunt, one thrust from Mira pushing her into the delectable stretch of three fingers, another pump from Zoey forcing her forward until her nose brushes leather and her throat opens for thick cock and it's just—
She feels like a filthy, dirty, perfect little sex toy made just for them.
"I think she's gonna come again," Zoey muses, and Rumi can barely hear her over the blood rushing in her ears. She's rubbing her throbbing clit and slowly, slowly fucking into her, making her cunt spread and spread and spread—
"Yeah, her thighs are shaking so hard I'm surprised she's still upright," Mira observes, fingers caressing the shell of her ear as she sinks into her throat again. "They did that earlier too when I was doing that thing with my tongue that you like."
And that—
Fuck, just the thought of coming from something Zoey likes, from something Mira does to her is—
"Oh, she's coming," Zoey notes, and Mira says something she can't catch because a lick of heat sears up her spine and through all her extremities in a wild burst as the coiled spring of her body finally releases.
Her eyes roll back and she comes like the sun is rising inside of her—all the pent-up tension sitting at the horizon finally releasing in an overwhelming rush of warmth and light, liquid sunbeams of pleasure suffusing her entirely until she feels luminescent with bliss.
She doesn't even fully register it when Mira carefully pulls her cock out of her throat, when Zoey eases her fingers free, or when the two of them gently maneuver her floppy body back against the sheets.
"Did we kill her?" she distantly hears Zoey ask. It sounds like she's talking from across the room, but her hand brushes a few errant strands of hair off her forehead.
"Mm, no, I don't think so. She's still breathing," Mira says. She leans in to kiss her and Rumi weakly kisses back with a quiet hum.
"Oh, yeah, still alive," Mira says, smiling against her lips. "Are you back with us, pretty girl?"
Rumi can barely get her synapses to fire long enough to form a thought, but once again the term of endearment pulls her focus, makes her whine softly, brokenly—a little raspy from the overuse of her throat—and yearn for more.
More touching. More kissing. More Mira, more Zoey, just more—
"More," she says, voice hoarse, barely conscious after her last orgasm, but still wanting wanting wanting.
Zoey laughs in delight, grabbing her hand and kissing her palm.
"Oh good," Mira says, nuzzling at her cheek and sounding pleased. "I was hoping you'd say that; I still have to fuck you so hard you can't walk."
Rumi's eyes snap open, a hot flush warming her face.
"Oh," she says softly. "Yes, please."
Mira grins and sits up, brushing the back of her hand tenderly over her cheek.
"Aww," Zoey coos, pressing little kisses to each of her fingertips. "She said 'please.' You're so sweet and polite, Rumi."
She lets go after another lingering kiss to her palm, then she tugs Rumi's underwear the rest of the way off and drops it off the side of the bed.
"Did you want to take your shirt off too?" she asks, sliding her hand up under the hem of it to splay her fingers against her belly.
Rumi nods, stomach tensing slightly as she thinks back to how nice it felt having their hands directly on her skin.
She props herself up and pulls her shirt off, drops it next to her underwear, then lays back fully naked against the sheets.
"Jesus," Mira says softly, biting her lip, an overtly appreciative look on her face.
"I know," Zoey says, and then she tears her eyes away to reach for a pillow, tapping lightly at Rumi's hip.
"Up," she says, and Rumi dutifully bends her knees and lifts her hips so she can slide the pillow under her ass.
"There we go," Zoey says with a smile, and then she reclines against the headboard next to her, one hand playing with Rumi's hair, the other resting on her own stomach, fingertips dipping just below her waistband.
Mira shuffles forward on the bed on her knees, nudging her bent legs apart with her thighs. Her cock bobs heavy at her hips, and Rumi swallows against her raw throat, thinking thinking thinking about how full she'll feel with it inside of her again.
Mira smirks.
“Look,” she says, pressing her cock down so it lays against Rumi’s belly. “I wonder if it’ll fit.”
"God, you're sooo hot right now," Zoey whispers, fingers twitching in Rumi's hair.
Rumi whimpers her agreement, clit throbbing just from looking at her, from feeling the weight of her resting on her stomach. Her head spins just thinking about something this thick fitting inside of Zoey, about how it's going to be inside of her soon too. She fists at the sheets and rolls her hips up, biting her lip when her swollen clit drags against the bottom of her dick.
"Please," she hushes in a scratchy voice, an untameable fire burning under her skin. "I want it, please."
The corner of Mira's mouth quirks up and she wraps her hand around her cock. And then she's brushing her tip against her clit, again and again and again, rubbing at her until she's squirming and reaching for her with nothing but Please please please falling out of her mouth.
"'Please' what?" she asks innocently, like she isn't ruining Rumi's life with her teasing.
"Please— I want—" Rumi struggles to get her words out, thighs twitching and thoughts dissolving with every brush against her clit.
"You can have anything you want," Mira says, looping her free hand around her ankle. "All you have to do is ask."
Rumi trembles, a high, needy whine curling out of her abused throat. She just needs to ask.
She thinks about Mira eating Zoey out, about Zoey sucking her off, about Zoey taking her cock and Mira making her come so hard she cries.
"I want you to fuck me like you fuck Zoey," she blurts, more breath than sound.
Zoey inhales sharply and Mira's eyes go dark, pupils eclipsing her irises.
"If you ask like that…" Mira says, voice low, scooting even closer. "I'll have no choice but to fuck you."
And with that, she takes her cock and presses the blunt head up against Rumi in a little nudge, gentle as a kiss.
Rumi gasps, a hot twist of desire curling in her belly from the contact. She lifts her hips entreatingly, trying to make it easier for Mira to push right in.
Mira licks out at her lips in a flash of pink, an exhale puffing out of her as she shakes her head in disbelief.
"You see what I mean?" Zoey asks. "It's so hard to make her wait for anything—she's just too sweet and needy."
"Yeah, fuck. I'm so ruined,"Mira says, smiling blithely.
And then the nudge becomes an extended rocking, thick cockhead presspresspressing at her until her body abruptly gives and accepts a couple inches.
"Oh," Rumi gasps, and then her breath hitches so hard she almost gives herself hiccups as the sensation of taking Mira's cock actually registers.
Zoey immediately appears next to her, brushing her hair back.
"I know. I know, babe," she coos softly, kissing her forehead. "It's a lot isn't it?"
Rumi whines, twisting her hand in the fabric of Zoey's shorts, aching from the stretch, aching from how much she wants more of it.
"'S good," she breathes, her other hand reaching for the hem of Mira's tanktop and tugging weakly. "Please—"
"Oh my god," Mira says with a visible shiver. "Okay, baby, hold on."
And god—
Rumi whimpers loudly, a frantic energy building in her chest, baby echoing in her mind.
Mira pumps her hips—sinking slightly deeper—and the sensation is intoxicating. She rocks forward again, again, again, each time pushing just a little further, slowly splitting Rumi apart, making her body submit to the steady unyielding pressure of her big, thick—
Their hips meet as she fully sheathes herself inside Rumi's cunt.
"How's that?" she asks, but Rumi can't—
How is she supposed to answer when there's no space left for thoughts, for words, for anything other than feeling how full she is? She gasps and trembles, air itself struggling to find room inside of her. She feels lightheaded, dizzy—incapable of taking a full breath—and so, so hungry. There's a yawning expanse widening inside of her, a beast opening its mouth to swallow the world, craving more sensation, more stimulation, more pleasure.
She resists for just a second longer against the rising tide of her lust—
And then she plummets beneath, resurfacing as pure need.
Her hips roll up greedily as the demon of her desire demands that she find some relief against her clit.
"Rumi," Mira says, running her hands up her shins, "I'm going to start moving now."
"Yes, yesyesyes—" she pants, all breath, all hunger.
Mira draws back in a delicious dragging motion, then thrusts back in, and the moan that comes out of Rumi is throaty and undeniably gratified.
"Yeah?" Zoey asks breathlessly, fingers gently scratching at her scalp. "You like it like that?"
There's a tone to her voice that has Rumi weakly turning her head to look at her.
She's touching herself. She's naked from the waist down, shirt up over her ribs, knees bent with her feet against the sheets in a close mirror of Rumi's position, and she's touching herself. And now that Rumi's aware of it, she can hear how wet she is, can hear her soft little moans, can see the way she's pushing her hips up into her hand, hard little clit rubbing against her fingers and it's just— fuck.
Mira thrusts again before Rumi can attempt to answer Zoey, before she can tell her how pretty she looks touching herself while watching Mira fuck her. And then she does it again and her capacity for words gets fucked into oblivion. It's suddenly all she can do to breathe around her gasps and moans as Mira pumps her cock into her, filling her over and over, stuffing her so completely that the sheer stretch is enough to cause the tension to build between her hips again, slow and inexorable.
Mira leans forward, palms pressing down against the bed on either side of her shoulders, hips spreading Rumi's bent legs further apart. Her hair falls over her shoulder in a silky curtain as she continues fucking her, the sweet scent of her shampoo filling Rumi's senses as the slight change in angle nudges her dick up against—
Rumi feels sparks fire off in her skull, brilliant and breathtaking. She convulses, a shocked sound forced out of her as a direct line of pleasure jolts from her cunt to her brainstem. Still shuddering, she squeezes Mira with her knees, and then crosses her ankles at the small of her back to trap her between her legs—an attempt to keep her right the fuck there so she can do whatever that was again.
"I think you hit her reset button," Zoey says, grin barely faltering even as her hips hike up into her hand.
"What, this?" Mira asks, and then she drives her cock up and in again, forcing a hitching moan out of her, loud and desperate. She reaches up, clutching at Mira's back, nails digging into her skin, trying to ground herself by dragging Mira down until her full weight is resting on her.
"God, that is so cute," Zoey says, breath catching and hips stuttering.
Mira lets out a soft, rumbling sound of agreement and tucks her face into her neck, pressing kiss after kiss to her skin as she pumps her hips, dick rubbing at that spot in shallow strokes until Rumi's a shaking mess.
"You sound so pretty for us, Rumi," she murmurs by her ear, and then her tongue is slicking warm and wet against her tragus and Rumi's whole body goes completely limp, arms slipping off her shoulders to flop against the sheets.
She whines, every part of her humming from the drag of her cock, the feel of her tongue against her ear, the press of her body, the warmth of her skin. Sunbursts of pleasure flare in her belly every time she thrusts into her, clit throbbing with every lick at her ear and it's just so, so—
She comes like a revelation, like the chapel of her body was built only for this amount of sacred desire, this amount of transcendent pleasure, this amount of divine satisfaction. She comes and the rest of the world falls away until it's just the absolute bliss running through her body with Mira still fucking into her and sucking at her earlobe, with the sound of Zoey whimpering next to her on the bed, hips pushing into her hand, fingers messily rubbing at her clit.
With her teeth still clenching tight from paroxysm, body racking with wave upon wave of aftershock, she reaches for Zoey. Her arm twists awkwardly but she manages to slip her hand up her shin.
Zoey gasps and whines at her touch, legs falling further apart. Her teeth sink into her lip, needy noises pitching higher and higher, adorable pink flush on her freckled cheeks, eyes squeezing shut. Her heels dig into the sheets to lift her hips into her hand, grinding in shuddering jolts until her body winds tight tight tight—
And snaps.
She comes with an overwhelmed whimper, bucking against her wet fingers, and it's quite possibly the prettiest thing Rumi's ever witnessed. She feels her own pleasure drawing out and amplifying as she watches Zoey collapse against the sheets, sweat beading at her temple, soft body trembling with every little aftershock brought on by her lazily rocking hips.
A warm swell of sympathetic pleasure abruptly bursts in her belly and she clenchclenches around Mira with a soft noise of surprise, aftershocks rolling through her in a renewed wave.
Mira chuckles knowingly, then asks, "She's cute when she comes, isn't she?"
Her voice is low, and the warm puff of her laugh brushes against the shell of her ear. Rumi bites her lip against the additional stimulation, goosebumps rising along her arms.
"Miraaa…" she says, voice wobbly, "I- I don't think I can handle much more of you teasing my ears."
Mira hums an intrigued sound.
"I noticed it earlier when I did this"—she illegally licks at her tragus again and Rumi moans helplessly, knees squeezing around her waist—"but your ears are pretty sensitive, huh?"
"St—"
"Rumi's ears are sensitive?" The mattress sinks a little to her side as Zoey flops down next to her, sounding remarkably chipper for someone who had been incapacitated with pleasure just moments ago.
"N-no they're n—"
Zoey takes her earlobe into her mouth just as Mira does the same on her other side and Rumi feels her tenuous hold on the situation slip right out of her grasp. She whimpers, hips rolling up just once as the feeling of their tongues slicking against her earlobes makes her melt into a limp puddle on the sheets.
The sound of their little hums and moans by her ear are too close, too intimate, too erotic, the warm slick of their tongues gliding against every dip and ridge of her ears so inexplicably good she can barely move. It's all she can do to reach for them, finding Mira's waist and Zoey's hip and weakly fussing with their clothes until she can press her hands to their bare skin, desperate for their softness.
She feels like she's just coming off the tail end of an orgasm, but the way they're mercilessly teasing at her ears with Mira still inside of her is ramping up her arousal to an untenable level. She can't—
Mira pumps her hips and it pushes a stuttering whine out of her, cock dragging heavy on the way out and thrusting so, so deep on the way in.
"Fuck," she gasps. "Oh fuck—"
"Yeah?" Mira asks, voice low and amused and still by her fucking ear. "Feeling good, baby?"
And, god.
Zoey nuzzles at her ear with a soft moan and it's just so—
"You sound so pretty when Mira's fucking you," she murmurs. "You like how big she is?"
Rumi makes a noise of desperation, clenching reflexively around her dick, aware aware aware of how fucking big she is.
"Yeah? You like how thick she is?"
And yes, god, yes, she does—
"You like how she's fucking you with her nice, fat cock?"
Rumi hiccups a whimper, tossing her head against the sheets, feeling incendiary, a hot spark sputtering catching flaring in her belly.
"Stretching your pretty little cunt out so good that it's all you'll ever crave again?"
Fuck—
It's so much—so, so much with Zoey crooning sweet filth, breath curling warm as a caress against her ear, with Mira stuffing her fuller than she's ever been. She opens her mouth—needing needing some way to release some of what she's feeling—and sinks her teeth into Mira's shoulder.
Mira's hips buck forward, cock already as deep as it can go, groaning quietly and licking into her ear like she has to be inside her in as many ways as possible—
And Rumi comes like combustion, water on a grease fire, the wet of Mira's tongue setting her burn ablaze. She shudders hard, eyes rolling back as she jerks underneath her, taking taking taking, all of her thoughts evaporating under the hot onslaught of sensation until she's mindless and breathless and shaking.
When she comes back to her senses, she hears Zoey say, "I told you she's bitey."
Mira chuckles softly and languidly rolls her hips down into Rumi's, pulling another gentle aftershock out of her. "That's fine, I happen to like a biter."
"Masochist."
"Takes one to know one."
"Ooh, you want to kiss me sooo bad."
"I do, but I'm a little stuck at the moment."
Rumi blinks her eyes open and sheepishly releases Mira's shoulder, pressing an apologetic kiss to her skin.
"Oh, I'm free," Mira says, and then she's popping up to look at her.
"Hi, beautiful," Mira says. "How are you holding up?"
"Mm, I'm good. I'm okay," Rumi says, a shy smile touching her lips. She reaches up and carefully places her fingers next to her bite mark.
"I'm sorry I bit you. And I'm sorry I bit you earlier too, Zoey."
"Don't be, I like it," Mira says.
"Same, you can bite me anytime, Rumi."
A shocked laugh bursts out of her and she looks over at Zoey, who's still naked from the waist down, sitting on her heels next to them.
"So, you're both actually masochists?" she asks.
"I mean…" Mira says, "Don't we have to be to be in our line of work?"
"The idol part or the demon hunter part?" Zoey asks, head tilted. Then she shakes her head and crosses her arms. "Both, it's gotta be both."
"Yup, definitely both," Mira says before falling silent again and studying Rumi's face.
"What is it?" Rumi asks, curious.
Mira hesitates for a moment, then:
"Can you take one more?"
"One… more?" Rumi asks, not following the sudden change in topic.
"One more position. I said I wanted to take you from behind," Mira says, grinning. "I wasn't kidding."
"Oh."
—
While Mira goes to the bathroom to clean up for the position change, Zoey maneuvers Rumi until she's on her knees with her ass up in the air and her chest pressed to the sheets.
"There we go," she says with a satisfied clap.
"This is… embarrassing," Rumi notes, cheek smooshed against the bed, arms stretched out in front of her.
"Is it? But you look so good like this," Zoey says, putting her hands on her ass and squeezing.
"So good like this…" she repeats, sounding a little dazed as she starts kneading and spreading her asscheeks, "All wet and swollen and pink and dripping…"
"Getting started without me?" Mira asks, kneeling on the bed next to Zoey.
"Yeah," Zoey breathes, sounding distracted as she spreads and spreads her. "Mira, do you think maybe… she would like…?"
One of her hands drifts inwards and Rumi's eyes widen when her thumb lightly brushes over her—
"Oh… now that's a thought."
"What's a thought?" Rumi asks. "What's happening?"
"Zoey is wondering if you'd like to take something in your ass," Mira says bluntly.
"Wait," Rumi says, mind reeling, trying to catch up with this turn of events. "There?"
"Mmhm," Zoey responds. "It feels good right here"—she gently rolls her thumb in a circle over the tight ring of her ass—"doesn't it?"
And Rumi trembles and gasps as pleasure—warm, sticky, entirely unexpected—curls into her body, overshadowing her trepidation.
"I— don't know?" she mumbles, jaw slack, hips swaying back, cunt clenching around nothing.
"You don't know?" Zoey asks sweetly. She rolls another circle over her hole and Rumi's knees slip further apart, hips twitching down. "Are you sure?"
"I- I don't—"
The third roll of her thumb makes her moan, a needy sound, hips rolling down in a lewd little hump.
Mira makes an appreciative noise in the back of her throat, deep and rumbly.
"Zoey."
And apparently that's all she needs to say, because in the next moment Zoey says, "Yeah. I'll go get everything ready," breathless excitement in her voice.
Rumi tries not to rock back as Zoey takes her hands away, but she still wobbles with a soft whine.
Mira's hands are on her in an instant, the mattress sinking slightly as she moves up behind her.
"I've got you," she says, petting her hands soothingly down her back.
Rumi relaxes into her touch, and then immediately stiffens up again in surprise when her warm cock brushes up against her inner thigh. Not even a second later, her legs spread wider and her hips push back in an incriminating little sway.
She can hear the smug smile in Mira's voice when she says, "Want something?" and languidly rocks forward, rubbing the length of her dick against her thigh.
"Please, yes," she mumbles, clit pulsing eagerly as if she's not multiple orgasms in already.
"Okay, baby," Mira says. "Because you said 'please'."
And then she's pressing her cock up against her cunt in a steady push, a constant, heady rocking as she fits herself back between her legs, nudgenudging until Rumi's body remembers exactly how to open for her again.
She moans as Mira sinks all the way in, hips pressing up against her ass, and Zoey chooses that moment to pop back into the room with her arms full.
"Did I miss anything?" she asks.
"Just how she sounds when she's taking my cock," Mira says.
"Aww…" Zoey pouts, dumping her haul on the bed. "I wanted to hear that again."
"How about her first deep stroke from the back?" Mira asks, and then her hands are on her waist, pressing her down against the sheets as she pulls her hips back and thrusts—
A stuttering moan trips out of her lips, fingers desperately clawing at the bed for purchase, trying to find some way to ground herself against the flint and tinder pleasure sparking up her spine.
Fuck, the way it feels like her cock sinks so much deeper in this position is going to break her.
Zoey moans too, teeth sinking into her soft lower lip as her eyes track up and down her body, noticing every little twitch, every spasm.
"Yeah, okay, that makes up for it," she says, practically a whisper.
She shakes herself like a dog and furrows her brows, refocusing.
"Keep going," she tells Mira. "I want to hear her while I sort this stuff out."
Mira huffs a laugh.
"You don't have to tell me twice," she says, and then she's fucking into her again and again, moving slowly but forcefully, dick hitting so fucking deep every time she bottoms out that Rumi swears she can see lights flashing behind her eyes.
Rumi groans, losing herself to the feeling of getting fucked into the sheets, slick dripping down her thighs, clit throbbing and ignored, nipples rubbing against the bed with every thrust.
A truly indeterminable amount of time later, Zoey appears in her eyeline.
"Hey, Rumi," she says softly, brushing her hair off her sweaty forehead. "Will you suck this?"
Rumi gets her eyes to focus on her with effort, and in her hand is another dick. It looks just as thick as the one Mira's fucking her with, but blue. Her mouth waters as she takes it in, automatically clenching around Mira as she once again relives that first indecent stretch of her throat.
Zoey seems to take her silence as denial and blushes.
"It's okay if you don't want to," she rushes to assure her. "I just thought maybe you'd want your mouth full again, but, um."
Her words seem to get caught and she licks out at her lips, clearing her throat nervously.
"Mira fucks me with this one," she says shyly.
Rumi's eyes widen and she swallows against the rush of wetness to her mouth, looking between the cock and Zoey and thinking about Zoey in the same position she's in now, whimpering and taking it.
"And obviously we wash it after, but I totally understand if—"
"I'd love to," Rumi interrupts quickly, breathlessly, mind hazing over again as Mira thrusts, and— fuck.
She wonders if maybe she'd still be able to taste Zoey on it. If maybe—
Zoey blinks.
"Really?"
"Yes. Yes, absolutely," she breathes. And then her mouth just keeps going. "I want it. Want to suck it. Want it in my mouth. Will you— I want to taste you on it."
Zoey blinks again, jaw dropping.
"Wow," Mira says, thumbs smoothing over her lower back in an affectionate brush, completely at odds with the way she snaps her hips forward and grinds deep, pushing a hitching groan out of her. "You heard her. You wanna put on a little show for us?"
"Yeah. Yeah, okay, yeah," Zoey says, head bobbling in a nod.
She crawls up and settles into the space between Rumi and the headboard, propping herself up on pillows and spreading her legs with her knees bent, putting herself completely on display.
Rumi whimpers when she sees just how wet she is, cunt slick and puffy. inner thighs damp with sweat and excitement. From this close, she can smell her arousal and it's making her brain malfunction, hungry little sounds scraping out of her throat as she rocks back into every pump of Mira's hips.
Zoey nibbles at her lower lip, pulling her top up higher to rest just under her breasts and settling a hand between her legs.
Rumi watches, riveted, as she starts teasing herself: Sliding her fingers low to collect all the slick dripping out of her cunt, then dragging upwards until she can settle a finger on either side of her swollen clit, a soft, sweet whine tumbling from her lips as she slowly glides the length of her fingers against it, arching her back and pushing her clit harder into the 'v' of her fingers.
It's gorgeous. She's gorgeous. The prettiest thing she's ever seen, touching herself so shamelessly while they look on.
Rumi's not sure how long she stays in that fuzzy, suspended state of combined voyeurism and exhibitionism, watching Zoey touch herself mere inches from her face while Zoey watches Mira fuck into her from behind, but at some point, a flush rises to the dusting of freckles on Zoey's cheeks and nose and her hips start stuttering, every drag of her clit against her hand a shuddery thing, thighs trembling and twitching like she wants to squeeze them together but is doing her best to keep them open so they can watch what a mess she's making of herself.
"God, you look so good when you're desperate," Mira says, enthusiastically squeezing at Rumi's ass as she thrusts into her, prompting another gasping groan. "I think you're about ready to start getting my dick wet."
Zoey whines, high and needy, fingers going still and body stiffening for several beats before she gets herself under control again. She lets out a wispy little breath and readjusts, pulling her shirt off to reveal her flush has drifted all the way down to her chest, and Rumi can't help but stare at her hard nipples, wondering what other sounds she'd make if she were the one being teased there.
Zoey reaches for a pillow and shifts until she's straddling it, grabbing the cock and resting it between her legs on top of the pillow before looking at them.
"Here we go," she says quietly, bracing both hands in front of her, and then she's rolling her hips down.
The sound she makes when her clit rubs up against it—head falling forward, arms trembling—makes heat spill out of Rumi's belly.
"Oh," she puffs out on an exhale, clenchclenching tightly around Mira's cock.
"Looks like Rumi likes what she sees," Mira notes, and Zoey's hips buck.
"Good, good good good," she chants breathlessly. "It's all for you, Rumi."
Rumi bites her lip around a helpless whimper, pleasure stroking up her spine as she watches her grind wet and messy, hips jittering and clearly sensitive but still putting on the prettiest show, the scent of her arousal deepening as she spreads her slick all over the cock between her thighs.
"I think it's probably good now, baby," Mira says, voice rough, hips losing their rhythm slightly. "Nice and wet. Let Rumi suck it."
Zoey shudders to a stop, biting at her lip to stifle her tiny overwhelmed noises. She pulls off of Mira's dick, and for a moment there are a few strands of slick connecting her cunt to the soaked cock on the pillow.
Mira groans, fingers digging into Rumi's hips, and Rumi swallows hard, spit filling her mouth now that she's so close to tasting Zoey on the cock Mira fucks her with.
Zoey looks more than a little wobbly as she grabs the dick and maneuvers away from the headboard, cunt and thighs shiny with how wet she is. She settles in next to Rumi with a quiet oof and hazily smiles at her, holding the cock out in front of her mouth.
"Will you suck this now?" she asks, looking at her lips.
"Yes," Rumi breathes. "Yes, please."
"Yeah?" Zoey asks, pupils blown out. "You promise to keep it in your mouth the whole time for me?"
"Yes. Yes, I promise," Rumi says, and though she says it, it feels less like she's promising and more like she's begging to have it in her mouth, to taste—
"Okay, pretty girl. Open for me."
And Rumi obediently opens and Zoey presses the wet cock into her mouth and her jaw stretches and the taste of her hits her tongue—salty, tangy, delicious. She moans, needily rocking her hips back.
Zoey smiles serenely and presses a kiss to her cheek, rounded out from the cock resting on her tongue.
"Good girl, Rumi," Zoey says affectionately, nuzzling her. "You sound sooo good with your mouth full. Doesn't she sound so good with her mouth full, Mira?"
"So good. So needy and whiny," Mira says, punctuating her words with grinding nudges of her hips, pushing impossibly deeper.
Rumi whimpers, tongue dragging messily against the cock in her mouth, desperate for more of her taste, smelling the slick on her fingers.
It's after the next couple of thrusts that she feels Mira's hands moving, sliding off her hips as she fiddles with whatever else Zoey has brought into the room. She hears a cap pop open, a wet splut, and the cap clicking closed again. There's the slippery sound of something being spread—lube, she assumes—and then the hush hush of Mira wiping her hand on the sheets.
And then she's gently fitting something stiff and slick and cool to the tight ring of her ass.
Rumi makes a soft noise in the back of her throat and Mira strokes soothingly at her outer thigh.
"Just relax for me, baby. I promise you'll feel so good."
And… she relaxes. Because Mira wants her to. Because Mira promises she'll feel good.
The tension leaves her body in the span of two slow breaths and the arch in her back deepens.
"Good girl," Mira says, voice a little rough as she rubs the toy against her hole, her other hand squeezing and spreading her ass.
Rumi whines, tongue pressing against thick cock, senses filled with the smell and taste of Zoey, with the sensation of Mira patiently teasing at her ass, slowly pressing the plug inside with a rocking motion that makes sticky, molten pleasure coalesce between her hips.
Even with the help of the lube, it's a gradual process.
Mira pushes the toy into her progressively, keeping a grounding hand on her hip as she inches just the slightest bit further on each forward nudge before backing out again, always mindful of any potential resistance, and all the while, Rumi can only whimper into the sheets, feeling her body stretching in new and delectable ways, already so spread around the dick in her mouth and the one in her cunt, and now, now—
She can feel herself dripping down her thighs, and it has nothing to do with the fact that she's got two cocks inside of her. She tries not to tighten up around the plug as Mira sinks it into her ass, but the way it rubs up against her, the way there's just the thinnest sliver of separation between the toy and Mira's cock, is just so fucking good.
Rumi sucks in a shaky breath and suddenly Mira's petting at her sides and no longer pushing the plug into her.
"What—?" she starts to ask.
But then Mira's fitting her hands to her lower back, thumbs settling as if to press at two specific points, fingers splaying out over her sides, and pulling her into her next thrust.
Rumi gasps but no sound comes out as extraordinary bliss rockets up her spine, ass full, cunt full, mouth full full full.
Zoey croons something by her ear but she can't hear it. She's feeling too much. She's burning up and wider than the world and the yawning hunger inside of her is feasting.
She's not even sucking the dick in her mouth anymore, just moaning around it as she takes Mira's cock and tries not to melt from the way each deep stroke feels like it's rubbing against the toy in her ass. She clenches and clenches, spasming under Mira's hands, desperate, needy sounds squeezing out around the cock she promised Zoey she would keep in her mouth.
It's so—
She can't—
Her thoughts won't—
Mira hits something so deep inside of her she swears something sparks inside of her brain.
Rumi moans brokenly, sheets wet with her spit, thighs shaking, sweat collecting at the small of her back and between her breasts. She's so full, she's so full. Her eyes slam shut, shuddering again and again as Mira fucks into her, as Zoey makes sympathetic noises to complement her overwhelmed whimpers, as every fucking breath draws her attention to the plug in her ass, shifting and rubbing at her from the inside.
There's a wetness on her cheeks and she becomes vaguely aware of the overwhelmed, euphoric tears squeezing out of the corners of her eyes as she blinks them open a split-second before all her nerve-endings light up, pure bliss suffusing her like spilled ink in water, swirls and curlicues of satisfaction spiraling out and expanding, bleeding into every part of her until she's fully saturated, painted in the hues of mind-breaking pleasure.
But even after that fades—as all paintings fade—she can't stop aftershocking. Every twitch of her body sends her into wave after wave of fresh bliss as her tongue drags against the dick in her mouth, as her body keeps clenching reflexively around the cock in her cunt and the plug in her ass. She keens, little gasping sounds falling from her lips as she trembles, so so so stuffed.
"I c- I can't," she whimpers almost soundlessly, voice wispy and muffled, "I can't— I can't—"
Zoey pulls the cock out of her mouth and wipes at her tears with a gentle thumb, cooing quietly.
"It's okay, Rumi. You're okay, baby, you're done."
"I'm st- I'm still—"
Mira pulls her cock out and the rasping drag of it sends her into another fluttering aftershock as it slides against the plug and—
More tears squeeze out of her eyes as she shudders against the sheets with a hitched breath, cheeks wet, chin wet, thighs wet, cunt empty. Zoey tenderly brushes those away too.
"Oh, sweetheart," Mira hushes, and it feels so vastly different this time that her heart stumbles. "Just one more. We just need to take the plug out now."
She puts her hands on her ass and Rumi jerks forward with a whine, shivering.
"I know, baby," Mira says. "You're feeling so, so much. I'll go slow, okay? Nice and slow."
Rumi exhales shakily and nods, cheek rubbing against the sheets. Her hips sink back, soothed by her reassurance. She can do nice and slow.
Mira grips the base of the plug with one hand, the other holding her in place at the hip as she slowly but steadily, in the tiniest increments, starts easing it back out.
Rumi groans, clit throbbing as another set of seemingly impossible aftershocks pushes its way through her body as it gives and gives, releasing the toy in her ass one aching millimeter at a time.
When the plug finally comes free, Rumi's hips and thighs fully give out and she collapses until she's sitting on her heels, ribs bracketed by her trembling knees, gasping for air as she shakes snd shakes and shakes, one final aftershock or orgasm—she can't- she can't fucking tell anymore—forcing its way out of her, cunt and ass still tightening around nothing.
"That was so, so good, Rumi," Zoey says softly, gently petting her head. "You came so much for us."
Mira strokes a hand down her back, thumb sliding over the ridges of her spine.
"Yeah, that was perfect, baby," she says. "So sweet and pretty."
Rumi hums, warmth spreading through her at the praise, melting into the sheets as her breath gradually evens out again. She's achey in places she didn't know could ache, but she's also loose-limbed and liquid, so relaxed that she feels like she could just… dissolve.
"We can let you stay like that for a little longer, but then we should get you cleaned up," Mira says, poking at her outer thigh. "You dripped all over the place."
Rumi grunts noncommittally, too floppy and fucked out to even think about moving for at least another hour, but then Zoey snorts and says, "Oh yeah? And what's all over your thighs, Mira?"
"A perfectly natural reaction to watching you two come," Mira says, sniffing dismissively.
"Aww, Mira!" Zoey says, pushing up and throwing her arms around her neck. "You're so precious. And by the way, you still owe me that kiss you promised earlier."
"I didn't promise you anything," Mira says, already leaning in to kiss her, hands naturally falling to Zoey's waist to pull her closer.
Rumi manages to move, motivated by the urge to not miss out. She clumsily rolls over to watch them, admiring the hand Zoey has wrapped in Mira's ponytail and the soft moan she swallows when she tugs; the possessive hands Mira has at her waist and the way she hitches her higher into her lap to settle her on her still-wet cock.
Zoey hums, rubbing herself against it and smiling so hard into the kiss that it naturally ends. She pecks her twice in quick succession to make up for it.
"Time to clean up," she says, with a regretful sigh that speaks volumes about how she feels about being responsible right now.
Mira nods and kisses her one more time. And then once more. Simply because she can.
—
Rumi definitely can’t walk afterwards. She tries, never one to give up until her body forces her to, but her legs simply refuse to cooperate and she almost faceplants.
Luckily, Mira and Zoey are both there to catch her. Zoey steadies her around the waist, supporting her gently, and Mira steps forward to give her a soft place to land, both of them protecting her like they always do in every single way.
“We’ve got you,” Zoey says softly. “Don’t push yourself.”
And something about the way she says it makes Rumi realize that she means it about more than today, more than this.
"Thank you," she says in a scratchy whisper, and lets them help her into the bathroom to clean up.
—
They end up in Mira's room—since Zoey's room now smells like sweat and sex—and sit propped up against the headboard on a copious amount of pillows. It's so simple, so easy for them to curl up into each other like they were never meant to be separated in the first place. It's so comfortable being together like this, with as many body parts touching as possible.
So comfortable that Rumi almost forgets that there's been something she's been wondering about.
“How did you two get so good at giving massages?” she asks.
“Oh,” Zoey says, blinking. “We just give each other massages.”
“Yeah,” Mira says. “What? Did you think we were just that good without practice?”
Rumi flushes. It feels silly to not realize the most obvious answer is the correct one.
Then another thought hits.
“So then… the sex, too?”
Zoey laughs, nose crinkling adorably, and Mira smirks slow and dangerous.
“Yup, that’s all practice too,” Mira says. “Usually right after the massage, since it's basically foreplay.”
“Oh,” Rumi says, voice a whisper.
“You can’t argue with the results,” Zoey says lightly.
"I definitely have no complaints," Rumi replies shyly.
The room goes quiet again, but as always, it's a comfortable silence.
A final thought hits.
“Wait, so… did you plan all of this to have sex with me?”
Mira and Zoey freeze, then trade looks.
“It may have been a possibility we considered,” Mira concedes.
“We wouldn’t have done anything if you hadn’t seemed so receptive,” Zoey says, hands fluttering nervously. “But then you just kept making those noises and reacting so perfectly…”
“We were only going to fuck you if you asked,” Mira says. “It really was supposed to just be a nice jjimjilbang experience for you.”
“But maybe we did get carried away once we started,” Zoey says softly.
"But not in a 'we regret it, that shouldn't have happened, let's all forget it' way," Mira rushes to add. "We've been wanting to do this for months."
"Months," Zoey echoes emphatically.
Rumi blushes, picking at some invisible lint on Mira's blanket.
"That's really sweet," she says quietly. "Thank you."
Mira puts a staying hand over hers, stilling her nervous fidgeting. She dips her head to make eye contact.
"Rumi, you know we love you, right?"
"I do," she says, flipping her hand over so she can tangle her fingers with Mira's, heart skipping when her whole face softens.
"Like, yes we love you as our best friend, but more than that too," Zoey adds, reaching for her other hand. "The kind of love where we don't want to make excuses to make you come so hard you cry."
Rumi freezes and Mira lifts their hands to her lips to kiss her knuckles.
"That part is really fun," she murmurs, every word pressed to her skin like a gift.
"I… I did like that part a lot," Rumi confesses, blushing hard.
"Oh, thank god," Zoey exhales with audible relief, resting her head on her shoulder. "Can you imagine if we made her sound like that and react like that and come like that and she'd actually hated all of it?"
"Can't imagine it, don't want to imagine it," Mira says, bringing their joined hands up to rest over her heart, as if trying to protect it. "It's too sad."
"You don't have to," Rumi quickly assures them. "I really liked it, I promise. Um—"
She pauses briefly, neck going warm, preemptively embarrassed.
"I loved it, even. Like the way I love… you both…" she says, voice slowly trailing off as her self-consciousness grows.
"Oh my gosh, Rumiii…" Zoey says, squeezing her fingers. She lifts her head off her shoulder and kisses her cheek several times in a row. "How are you this unbelievably cute?"
"I think I'm a normal, believable amount of cute."
"No, Zoey's right," Mira says, pressing a kiss that turns into a lingering nuzzle to her other cheek. "Unbelievably cute. Two against one. And now that that's settled, I think we should think about what we want to eat with tonight's movie."
She peers around Rumi to look at Zoey.
"I'm assuming you do have a movie picked out for us, Zoey?"
"Yes, I've been waiting for you to ask!" Zoey says, throwing her hands up in elation and narrowly avoiding smacking Rumi in the head. "I have a playlist of five hundred four-second videos about sea cucumbers ready and waiting for us. And tomorrow…"
She pauses here and smiles so sweetly at Rumi that her heart nearly jumps out of her chest to run towards her.
"Tomorrow, maybe you can show us that song you've been pouring your heart and soul into?"
Mira nods in agreement, looking at her with so much sheer affection that Rumi wants to cry from how unbelievably lucky she feels.
"We promise to listen to all of it," she says.
And for the first time, when her chest starts aching, she lets the ache tell her what it wants:
She pulls her girls close close closer, kissing Mira and then kissing Zoey. Looking at them expectantly until they grin and kiss each other while she watches.
And her aching heart settles like a tiger, yawning wide and curling into the warmth of the bodies at her side, asleep. An ache no more.
