Chapter Text
In an unexpected twist of fate, Rumi falls first.
It hits her at the end of HUNTR/X's debut performance.
Amidst the screaming and cheering of a newly forming fanbase, amidst the whoops and thumbs-ups from the stage crew, amidst the thrumming instrumentals closing out the performance, Rumi stands on stage and stares.
She stares at Mira, at her wild grin, at her heaving chest, at her sweat-slicked hair, at her soft gaze, at her quiet confidence accompanying her every move.
She stares at Zoey, at her sparkling eyes, at her bouncing feet, at her exaggerated waving and loud reciprocal cheers, at her open awe, at her whole body vibrating in joy.
Rumi stares, and she falls.
For Mira.
For Zoey.
For both.
And as soon as she realizes this, she grabs her heart, shoves it deeper into her chest, and convinces herself that she’s so lucky just to have the two girls in her life, to get to love and cherish them like a friend, because even if she did like them differently, she couldn’t, not with the poisonous purple that twists like creeping vines down her shoulders.
When she falls after their first tour, she shoves it down.
When she falls after their first Idol Awards, she shoves it down.
When she falls after every performance, and before, and during, she shoves it down.
When she starts falling every time she’s off the stage with them too, every time Mira tosses out a sarcastic comment or Zoey rambles on about a new animal fact, the shoving gets less and less effective.
After their fourth Idol Awards win, Rumi falls and doesn’t try to get back up. She takes her heart in her hands, glares at it, and concedes.
It pulses in her chest, full with a love so very distinct from friendship (it shares many of the same notes, but the harmonies layer in something unique and unexpected), and she finally lets it. Quietly, in small moments when she’s positive Zoey and Mira aren’t looking, she lets it fill her with a golden warmth.
Rumi’s content with that.
Until the Honmoon turns gold, she’s content with loving her girls privately. And really, she’s surprised at how little it hurts to do so. Any aches she thought she’d feel, at knowing what her heart begged for and not being able to act on it, are few and far-between, soothed by the constant presence of Mira and Zoey just…being in her life.
Rumi’s happy, and that’s more than she’s ever expected to be.
Maybe someday, though. When the Honmoon turns golden.
Until then, she’ll wait.
---
Zoey and Mira are going to lose their minds if they have to keep waiting on Rumi to figure her shit out already.
Zoey’s like, 99% confident that Rumi likes them back.
Well, obviously she likes them, duh, that’s a given considering that the girls are together both on and off the stage on practically a 24/7 basis.
It’s the whole does-she-like-them-romantically that Zoey’s specifically pretty confident in. (99%. Almost guaranteed, really.)
Zoey also really hates waiting.
As it turns out, so does Mira.
Mira.
Zoey sighs dreamily, propping her head in her hands and staring at nothing in particular as her mind works in overdrive.
Mira.
Zoey realized Mira loved her and Rumi in a GS25 convenience store at two in the morning.
Decked to the nines in mismatched hoodies, hospital-grade face masks, and bucket hats pulled down over their ears, it was a relatively normal late night snack run for HUNTR/X. Zoey beelined immediately for the chocolate shelf, Rumi scooted off to grab ramyeon and chips, and Mira grabbed a basket for drinks. The store was empty apart from the tired and bemused sales clerk, which meant the girls could relax a little more than usual knowing that there were no fans around to comment on any potentially weird behaviors.
Zoey, grabbing one of each kind of chocolate cookie packs on the shelf, yanked her bucket hat off her head, flipped it upside down, and started dumping the stash inside in a perfectly not-weird solution to forgetting to grab a basket at the storefront less than five meters away. She mused over the chocolate bars as well, scrunched up her face in determination, walked two steps, then spun back to grab three, one for each of the girls.
Carrying her haul, Zoey skipped to the back of the store by the fridges full of drinks just as Rumi rounded the corner with her arms full of cheap noodles and chip bags.
Zoey caught a glimpse of the basket in Mira’s hand, full of specific, carefully chosen drinks (all of their favorites) before Mira turned around, raised an eyebrow at both Zoey and Rumi, and popped a second basket from out the bottom of her current one. She held it out and snorted as Rumi sheepishly dumped her haul in the basket, then offered it to Zoey.
It was mundane. It was familiar. It was the look in Mira’s eyes, of not just amusement but overwhelming fondness at antics that she’d seen a hundred times already, antics that Zoey would’ve been chided for back home.
Huh. Mira loved them.
Zoey wondered if Mira’s own moment of realization was as dramatic as Zoey’s was, when she stopped to take a picture of a giant fish tank window in the Coex Aquarium (Rumi and Mira had surprised Zoey for her birthday), a window so big that it stretched from floor to ceiling, and froze as she looked through her camera lens to see Mira and Rumi pointing excitedly at a sea turtle. Their silhouettes, haloed in cerulean, already turning backwards to tell Zoey what they saw, had jumped straight out of a novel and stolen Zoey’s breath and heart in one split second.
She didn’t really care, though, how it happened for Mira. Only that it did.
It took a few days after for Zoey to work up the courage to speak to Mira, privately, while Rumi was at a solo shoot. She’d pulled Mira onto the couch, grabbed a chair from the kitchen, sat in front of her, leaned forward with steepled fingers, and stared.
Mira had started to look genuinely concerned when Zoey finally blurted it out, everything, dumping all of her thoughts and feelings into one giant rambling sentence until she ran out of breath, gasped, and waited for Mira’s reaction.
“No way,” Mira had murmured, hand over her heart. Zoey had held her breath, scared, until Mira broke into the biggest grin Zoey had ever seen and repeated, “No way.” A laugh bubbled free, and another, Mira unable to control them, and soon, Zoey and Mira were both in stitches together and so overwhelmingly happy.
They’d decided together not to do anything. Not yet.
They were still missing one, after all.
So days passed, and apart from glances that shared a secret and the occasional brushes of light fingers that lingered a little more than they used to, nothing changed except the knowing.
Then weeks passed.
And months.
And Zoey is tired of it.
She wants Mira and Rumi sooo bad.
“Um.” Rumi clears her throat. “Are you…good?”
“Hm?” Zoey opens her eyes to a slowly swirling white liquid. Confused, she lifts her forehead from the glass’ edge where she’d apparently let herself fall in a dramatic slump of defeat, shrugs, and takes a big slurp of the milk tea through a wide paper straw. “Mmf, totally fine,” she says, voice muffled as she chews a tapioca pearl at the same time. “Just thinkin’.”
“About…?” Rumi probes.
“You,” Zoey answers bluntly. Rumi blinks and Zoey swears the tips of her ears are turning red. “And Mira,” Zoey adds.
Mira raises an eyebrow. Knowing Mira, she’s completely aware of what Zoey’s teasing. To Zoey’s surprise, she doesn’t interrupt it.
“Um,” Rumi starts, “like…about what we’re doing today?”
It takes all of Zoey’s willpower not to bang her head on the table. “Yeah, Rumi,” she sighs, “what are we doing today?”
Rumi snaps into focus in an instant and starts rattling off their schedule. Across the table, Mira smirks. Zoey sticks her tongue out in response. It’s not like Mira doesn’t also want this!
“…and after that, we’re done early and totally free for the evening!”
Both Zoey and Mira perk up. Their eyes meet in a shared thought.
“A free evening?” Mira says slowly. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Rumi glances between them, confused.
“Bathhouse!” Zoey and Mira crow in tandem. Excited, Zoey resists the urge to bounce in her seat as she starts rapidly talking. “We all have a free evening, it feels like it’s been ages since we started tour planning, which also means that we totally deserve this. Especially you, Rumi, you always work way too hard, the bathhouse will feel so nice and—"
Shifting in her chair, Rumi gives a weird laugh. “Oh! Uh, actually, I think I’m just going to use my evening to catch up on some rest. You know, get some R&R.”
Mira frowns. “Rumi, the bathhouse is R&R, you can’t get more rested or relaxed than that.”
“Come on, Rumi, you’ll love it, we promise!” Zoey insists, even as she feels her hope of a group bathhouse trip fading fast.
“No thanks, I’m, you know, pretty worn out from the tour prep. I think I’ll just go to bed extra early tonight.”
Mira’s voice is quiet and calm. “Are you sure?”
Rumi nods. “Absolutely, yes. Thanks for the offer, though!” She grins broadly, and Zoey can’t help but think it looks a little forced, even though that doesn’t really make any sense.
“Okay. Well, get some rest tonight, then,” Mira says, standing up to take her dishes to the sink and lightly brushing Rumi’s shoulder as she passes.
Disappointed, Zoey watches Rumi turn back to her breakfast stiffly and thoughtfully chews another pearl.
Maybe the bathhouse is an opportunity for something different.
---
Zoey waits half a second after she and Mira sink into the warm water, reveling in the encompassing heat and steam, before launching into conversation:
“Mira, I want to tell her.”
Mira closes her eyes and leans her towel-covered head back against the edge of the bath. “I know,” she states. “I do too.”
“I think we’ve waited long enough and—you do?” Zoey’s ramble stops as she realizes what Mira’s said.
“Yeah,” admits Mira, “I do. It’s been months.”
“Not gonna lie, I thought you were being super patient about the whole thing.”
Mira lazily opens one eye. “I mean, sure, that’s been the goal. I want Rumi to come to us so we don’t scare her off.” She sighs. “But I’ll be real, I don’t think it’s ever going to happen if we don’t start it. You know how Rumi is.”
Groaning, Zoey submerges half her face below the water and huffs, sending a burst of air bubbles under the surface. Lifting up just enough so the water’s lapping at her chin, Zoey says, “I do, I really do. I think she likes us, like, romantically, I really think she does, 99% sure, but she’s always so cautious about everything.” Zoey pauses. “Well, everything with people,” she amends, thinking on Rumi’s reckless streak during demon hunts and her propensity to try literally anything placed in front of her at work (and listen, okay, the skateboarding shoot may have technically been Zoey’s idea, but she is not the one who encouraged Rumi to try a kickflip before she could even balance on a board).
“What if she doesn’t, though?” Mira whispers uncertainly.
Zoey freezes.There’s the thought they’ve both been too scared to voice for a while now.
“I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.” Mira shifts. “Because if she doesn’t like us back—”
“She does, I know she does,” Zoey interjects.
“—because if she doesn’t, it could ruin everything.”
Laughing nervously, Zoey weakly argues, “Nooo, haha, Rumi wouldn’t let that change our relationship, she wouldn’t.”
“Zoey.” Mira opens her eyes. “Think about it. Imagine Rumi and I came to you and said we wanted to be in a relationship, and you didn’t want that.”
“I mean, I do, though, I really really do—”
“Just entertain it for a second, Zoey.”
Zoey scrunches her nose as she thinks.
She…doesn’t know what she’d do, actually. How she’d react. But she does know that it would change things in their relationship.
“...It would change things,” Zoey concedes reluctantly. “But it won’t with Rumi, I know it won’t, Mira. She’d never let it, but also, I just…I know she wants it too.” She takes a breath. “I’m sure of it.”
“It scares me,” Mira confesses, “but at this point, I can’t not take the risk, because I’m tired of waiting. I want her. I want you.”
Zoey’s breath catches in her throat.
“I know we’re waiting for Rumi,” says Mira, “and I think that that’s been the right decision, but Zoey, I already have your answer, and if we can just get Rumi’s, no matter what it is, then we can finally act accordingly.”
Mira’s cheeks are flushed, and Zoey knows that, no matter how Mira may argue otherwise, it’s not from the steam.
Seeing Mira be so open, be so vulnerable, has Zoey just—“I want to kiss you so bad right now.”
Mira stares.
Zoey opens and closes her mouth like some kind of guppy fish. “I—ah—” She drops her head in her hands and whines. “I’m sorrrryyyy, I didn’t mean to blurt that out, it’s just, you’re literally being so attractive right now and—”
A finger on her mouth shuts Zoey up quickly.
Mira’s crossed the bath until she’s in front of Zoey. Her eyes roam over Zoey’s face before landing on her lips. Mira licks her own, then leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to the tip of Zoey’s nose.
“Zoey,” she rasps, “believe me, I want to do the same thing. So let’s tell Rumi soon, okay?”
“Yes, absolutely okay, sounds great!” Zoey nods quickly.
“Good.” Mira pulls away and Zoey bites back a whine. “Now, let’s come up with a plan.”
---
Mira and Zoey are just entering their penthouse, refreshed and determined, when the Honmoon ripples pink around them. They groan loudly. Mira thinks, Seriously?
A bedroom door at the end of the hallway slams open, the handle bouncing off the wall with a bang as Rumi, dressed in a hoodie and teddy bear train pajama pants, rushes out, hands frantically twisting her hair into a loose braid as she runs.
Startled, Rumi nearly misses a step when she sees Mira and Zoey, then switches to business mode: “Good, you’re back! We’ve gotta go.”
Mira and Zoey already know the drill.
Mira lets Rumi take point as all three of them pile in the elevator, stopping on the deserted second floor instead of the lobby level so they can cut through one of the empty offices and out its windows, one of their standard routes for sneaking off on nighttime patrols.
There’s always a certain thrill that pulses through Mira during hunts; tonight, it’s fueled both by adrenaline and by the sight of Rumi charging ahead of them, somehow still effortlessly graceful despite her sloppy braid and cartoon pajamas. To Rumi’s right, Zoey runs steadily, arms fanned out behind her as she bounds on light feet across the streets of Seoul.
Mira loves them.
She’s not actually sure when she figured it out; Zoey asked her, and had a moment of her own to reference, but Mira doesn’t have that. She thinks that one day, her heart simply decided without her, and sometime in the following weeks, her brain caught up.
Zoey and her were going to tell Rumi; they’d brainstormed all evening, cycling through elaborate date ideas before landing on simply picking their next movie night together, getting Rumi’s favorite snacks in advance, and just. Telling her.
Mira’s heart beats wilder as the fear and excitement of that decision meld with the fear and excitement of the hunt.
It's not that late at night yet, so there are people out, salarymen and women heading home after a late day at work, groups of friends passing a round of soju, neighborhood residents grabbing forgotten groceries, and more, but none of them think to look up and notice one of the world’s most famous idol groups racing across the rooftops.
The Honmoon tugs them towards an alley off a main road, dimly lit and a perfect hotbed for demons to spawn.
They arrive just as the tear opens, a flood of smaller, colorful demons rushing out, swinging clubs and rusty blades.
As one, HUNTR/X summons their own weapons. Rumi calls out a casual, “'Golden' on three!” She glances back to Mira and Zoey for a split second with mirthful eyes. “Let’s get some harmony practice in!” Her loose braid whips around behind her head as she runs towards the roof, counting down, and dives off, twisting and striking in an instant.
Mira and Zoey are right behind. They share one glance with each other, both of their eyes sparkling with love and delight and, quite frankly, attraction at their leader, before leaping into the alley as well.
Zoey zips straight into the fray, a whirlwind with knives. She springs off the walls and spins in midair and somehow sends a nonstop barrage of shin-kal blades with deadly precision at as many demons as she can see.
Mira works her way in from the edges, the reach of her gok-do feeling more like an extension of her arm as she sweeps it down and carves it back upwards through demon flesh, the resistance giving way in seconds as the demons turn to dust at the blade’s mercy.
And Rumi’s in the dead center, where she always is.
Following her movements out of the corner of her eye, Mira sees Rumi weaving her way through the demons, crouching low to kick a demon’s legs out from under it then using a burst of energy to propel herself forward at the next group of demons. Her sword sings as Rumi does, soaring with the high notes—“up, up, up, it’s our moment” —that leave Mira and Zoey weak at the knees before dipping down to paint a figure eight in demon dust.
It’s an easy fight, these demons clearly desperate, inexperienced, or some combination of the two. Their blades and clubs whistle through the air but miss their marks, leaving them stumbling and vulnerable to each of the hunters’ swings.
There’s a minor hiccup right at the end that does cause Mira’s breath to catch, if only for a second. As the tear starts closing, a trio of larger demons breaks through, though certainly not larger than anything the girls are used to on a regular basis.
With rusty swords in hand, the trio roars and charges.
One chooses to charge Mira, who takes all of two seconds to duck under the wild swing and slam her gok-do through the demon’s chest. It grunts in surprise as it dissipates, leaving Mira to take her free weapon and turn it to help Zoey and Rumi.
The other two demons seem to be communicating as they run head-on. One garbles something to the other, who nods and peels right to flank Zoey. Zoey turns with it, keeping it in her line of sight as she primes her shin-kals.
Rumi bounces lightly on her feet in anticipation, sword raised and ready to slice as the last demon comes barreling at her. She swipes her sword and misses, her eyes betraying her surprise, as the demon feints left then pivots right, rushing for the distracted Zoey whose back is turned as she focuses on the other one.
The third demon raises its rusty sword high and slashes it down as Mira pushes off the street and starts to shove her gok-do forward to block the blow, if she can only get there fast enough.
She doesn’t need to.
A purple blur whizzes in front of the blade. Rumi’s saingeom shoves upwards and catches on the demon’s weapon, then snakes around its hilt to twist and pop the sword straight out of the demon’s hand. It can’t even react before Rumi’s saingeom is buried to the hilt in its neck.
It dusts in front of her as Zoey finishes off her own opponent simultaneously.
Mira catches herself mid-run, skidding to a halt next to her girls and scanning the perimeter. The air around them pops, all tension suddenly gone as the Honmoon burns brightly with the last notes of "Golden" and the absence of demons, sealing itself shut and melting back into its usual ripples of blue.
Well, this fight certainly ruined any of the cleaning Zoey and her did at the bathhouse, but she can’t help but relish in the excitement and the rush of success, all demons gone and not a single scra—
No, wait.
There’s a red line across Rumi’s cheek that wasn’t there before.
Mira blinks.
When the hell had Rumi gotten hit?
She replays the fight back in her head, doesn’t recall any example where Rumi was even remotely close to a demon’s weapon, and—oh. Mira knows.
When Rumi had flung herself between the demon and Zoey without hesitation, the blade must’ve nicked her before Rumi finished the demon off.
Mira stares at the scratch of red as Zoey says something and Rumi laughs.
She stares as they leisurely parkour their way back to their tower, she stares as they pile back in the elevator, and she stares as they enter their penthouse and flop bonelessly onto the couch.
Zoey’s giggling as Rumi says something silly that Mira doesn’t catch. Absentmindedly, Mira walks to the kitchen to grab their first aid kit from under the sink and silently walks back over, mind working overtime.
She kneels in front of Rumi and starts to clean the scratch, Rumi wincing at the disinfectant for a split second before continuing her chatter with Zoey.
It’s Zoey who pauses. “How did that demon even manage to land a hit on you, by the way?”
Rumi shrugs. “I was a little slow on my parry—"
”She jumped in front of you when her demon feinted and charged at your back,” Mira says bluntly.
Gasping, Zoey says, “You took that scratch for me?”
Rumi ducks her head, embarrassed as Zoey gushes. “Rumi, you’re a literal hero. My knight in shining armor, riding in to take on the dastardly demon! Thank you for saving me!” Zoey swoons dramatically, struggling to keep in-character as she teases.
Beneath Mira’s fingers, Rumi’s cheeks glow red as she doesn’t play along and instead mumbles a quiet and genuine, “Always.”
…Okay, fuck the bathhouse plans.
Mira finishes cleaning the scratch, determining that it’s shallow and doesn’t need stitches. She places a large bandage on the scratch, pressing lightly but firmly to make sure it’s on.
Mira breathes shakily as she pulls back and deliberately catches Zoey’s eye.
The look on her face must say it all, because she’s met with two eyebrows raised in shock. Zoey jerks her head at Rumi and mouths “Now?!”
Mira nods.
Fuck waiting.
“Rumi.” Mira’s voice is low and serious.
Rumi immediately picks up on the tone and sits up straight. Her eyes lock onto Mira’s in no slight amount of panic. “…Yes?” she asks tentatively.
Beckoning Zoey, Mira steps back a bit from the couch and drops cross-legged onto the ground. She needs this conversation to be face-to-face between all three of them, something that’s a little harder to pull off on the couch.
Zoey comes, uncharacteristically quiet, and sits next to Mira.
Rumi follows suit, glancing uneasily between the two of them as she finishes their triangle. “Is everything…okay?” she asks.
“Yes,” Mira reassures calmly, “it is. But there’s…something Zoey and I want to talk to you about.”
Confusion plays across Rumi’s features. “O…kay…?” Her brow is wrinkled and Mira just knows there are a million possibilities swirling in that overthinking brain of hers, probably none of them good.
Zoey adds, “We’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while, actually, we just wanted to give you the chance to tell us first.”
Rumi stiffens oddly. Something in her gaze shifts from bemusement to wariness. Her muscles are starting to tense, and Mira realizes that she needs to lock down whatever this reaction is fast.
Placing a steady hand on Rumi’s knee, Mira says, “Hey. It’s nothing bad. Whatever you’re thinking, knock it off.” She pokes Rumi’s forehead.
Rumi blinks, seeming to relax at least a little. She worries her lip. “Then…what is it?”
Mira takes a deep breath. Zoey’s vibrating next to her, but she's thankfully following the one part of their bathhouse plan they can use here, which is Let Mira do the talking.
“Rumi. Zoey and I have known you for more than half a decade now.” Mira tries her best not to cough or stammer as the realization of what she’s about to do finally hits her. “A few months ago, Zoey came to me about something that…well, it surprised me a lot. She and I talked about it, and we decided to give you the chance to realize it yourself, but now, Zoey and I are done waiting.”
Mira hopes her cheeks aren’t red.
Rumi is blinking at them both owlishly.
“We want you to know that this won’t change anything if you don’t want it to!” Zoey blurts out quickly. “You don’t have to treat us any differently if you don’t want to, and we promise we’ll treat you exactly the same too!”
That odd caution is back in Rumi’s eyes.
Before she can shrink away, Mira reaches out to grab her hand. Zoey, following Mira’s lead, does the same with Rumi’s other.
“This is—” Mira sucks air sharply between her teeth “—actually really hard to say, holy shit. Zoey, how did you just tell me?”
“Because I was right! And I knew it, too, just like I’m 98% sure I’m right this time too!”
“Did you bring it down a point?”
Zoey ignores Mira, clasping Rumi’s hand tightly in both of hers. “Rumi. We—okay actually, first, you need to for real relax, Mira meant it when she said it’s nothing bad. We’re actually hoping—” Zoey ducks her head, surprisingly shy “—that you think it’s really good.”
Rumi swallows dryly. “Can someone just say it already?” She’s still tense, bracing herself for some kind of bad news.
Mira takes one final inhale, summons every ounce of courage in her body, and forces out, “We love you.”
“I…do too?” Rumi answers, confused.
Zoey slaps her palm to her forehead. “Mira! Be more specific!”
“Right,” Mira mumbles, tongue thick, “right. Rumi. Zoey and I—we don’t love you.”
Rumi flinches.
“Oh for the—” cries Zoey. “One more try Mira, or I’m breaking the plan and saying it myself.”
Now, Mira knows she’s red. “Fuck, sorry, I’ve never done this before,” she mutters, frustrated that she can’t keep her usual cool. “That’s not what I meant, I swear. I meant…”
Mira steels herself and closes her eyes, too scared to look. “I meant that we don’t just love you, Rumi. We’re in love with you.”
Silence.
No one says anything.
When Mira cracks open an eyelid, she’s met with a shell-shocked Rumi.
“Do you…have any questions?” Mira asks lamely.
Slowly, Rumi turns her head to look at Mira, and Zoey, and Mira, and Zoey.
In a strangled voice, Rumi asks, “Both of you?”
Mira feels her heart sink. “Both of us,” she whispers.
“…Rumi?” The way Zoey’s voice cracks nearly breaks Mira’s own heart.
Shit. Fuck. They should’ve waited. They shouldn’t’ve said anything at all. Mira pushed to tell Rumi tonight and now she’s ruined everything.
She can’t lose this family, she can’t, they’re everything to her, and—
Mira blinks.
Rumi’s face is gradually turning more and more red until she just about matches the shade of chili paste. She draws her knees to her chest and hugs them close and again chokes out, “…Both of you?”
“Yes, both of us.” The way Zoey answers it feels like a desperate plea.
Pulling her hood up, Rumi tightens the drawstrings around her scarlet face and keeps staring. A third time, she whispers, “Both of you?”
And then, before either of them can answer, she adds a disbelieving, breathless, hopeful, “For real?”
Mira’s heart does a flip.
Zoey bursts into a beaming smile. “Is that okay?” Zoey asks, vibrating.
Rumi gives a small nod.
“Are you interested in both of us?”
Another nod.
“Like, romantically?”
A nod.
“Like, you’re in love with us?”
“Yes, Zoey,” Rumi laughs hoarsely, “yes, yes, I—you’re both in love with me?”
“Yes!” Zoey exclaims, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Yes,” Mira murmurs, as if it’s the most precious thing in the world. “Can...can you say it in a sentence, Rumi, so we know we're on exactly the same page?”
Rumi lifts her head so quickly, the hood falls back around her neck. “Yes, I’m in love with you, I didn’t—it never crossed my mind that you both—"
A gentle touch from Zoey on Rumi’s cheek, right on top of her bandage, promptly shuts her up.
“Hey Rumi,” Zoey starts to ask, leaning in, “can I kiss you? Because I’ve been waiting a really long time to kiss you.”
Rumi twists out of her position and lunges forward to meet Zoey halfway. Their lips lock, tentatively pressing. As Mira watches, she feels a giddiness burst forth in her chest, much the same as it did when Zoey first confessed to her.
Zoey and Rumi are kissing, because they love each other. And they also love Mira, and Mira loves them, and—
Her thoughts are interrupted by Zoey’s mouth on hers, hot and impatient, muttering as she moves about just how long she’s been waiting to do this. Mira tangles her hand in her hair and yanks her closer, pressing their lips so tightly that Zoey can’t talk anymore, and it’s one piece of two that make up everything she’s ever wanted.
When Zoey pulls away, Mira mourns the loss of sensation before she opens her eyes to a stammering Rumi being shoved in her face by an eager Zoey. “One more!” Zoey declares through kiss-swollen lips.
Mira meets Rumi’s eyes. She leans forward slowly, hesitantly, not wanting to overwhelm Rumi anymore than she already is, and—
Rumi’s soft, and gentle, and Mira sinks into the feeling with a lightness in her chest. As she kisses Rumi, she holds out her hand, flexing her fingers in a grabbing motion. Zoey obliges happily.
Hand holding Zoey’s tightly, Mira grins widely into Rumi’s mouth and feels her smile in response. Her other hand caresses the bandage on Rumi’s cheek, earning her a small hum.
Mira truly doesn’t know how she deserves this family of hers, but she’ll protect them from harm with every fiber of her being: her two beautiful girls.
---
And just like that, they’re girlfriends.
A week passes, and Rumi’s still not sure she believes it.
However happy she’d convinced herself she felt before is nothing compared to the overwhelming, blossoming warmth of knowing that Mira and Zoey love her in the same way she loves them.
They don’t have much time together, not with their world tour kicking off next week and more work on "Golden" to have it ready to go after their return, but right now, they’re all riding the high of just knowing.
In-between photo shoots, in between rehearsals and make-up and mic checks, they catch each other’s eyes and smile, or wink, or blow a kiss, and they know.
---
The patterns are spreading.
Rumi trembles in the dressing room after their first World Tour performance. She holds her arms out in front of her, shaking her head and muttering “no, no, no” as she sees the purple creeping past her elbows.
---
The HUNTR/X World Tour doesn’t give the girls a lot of time to themselves. Most evenings, they’re too exhausted from travel or performances to do anything but flop on their hotel beds.
Overall, sometimes Rumi doesn’t feel like anything’s changed.
And sometimes, in their precious free time, Mira and Zoey pin her up against a wall just minutes before they need to be ready for make-up and kiss her until she can’t breathe.
---
In another three stops, the patterns are all the way up to her wrists, writhing and wrong.
---
Halfway through the tour, they’ve got two performances in New York City and a full day of rest in-between them.
They’re curled in a pile in the hotel room, watching some movie Zoey insists is an American classic that Rumi really can’t understand (her English is passable at best, and these characters are talking way too fast for her to catch a word they’re saying), when Mira trails her fingers along Rumi’s thigh.
It escalates quickly, to hot, peppered kisses and fervent touches and—
—a hand starts to push the hem of her shirt up and Rumi panics, practically leaping away and shoving Mira hard enough that she stumbles backwards before catching herself.
Rumi stares, horrified.
Mira apologizes, says it’s fine, says she shouldn’t have assumed. Zoey echoes her.
---
When it happens again, Rumi jerks back the same way. Shame coils in the pit of her stomach and wraps its clammy fingers around her shoulders and arms.
Mira and Zoey look at her so softly and tell her it’s okay. They’ll wait as long as she wants them to.
Until she’s ready.
---
Rumi is ready.
She’s so ready.
But she can’t.
She can’t.
Not without them seeing the truth.
She can’t lose what they have now, what she has now.
Can’t risk it. Won’t.
She can do this—she can be selfless.
Just until they turn the Honmoon gold.
---
An idea starts to form.
It’s dumb. It’s risky.
It means lying to Mira and Zoey on another level than she has been.
(But she already has been, hasn’t she? So what’s the harm?)
liar
It’s a bad idea.
She can wait.
---
She can’t wait.
Rumi can’t lose what they have now, what she has now, but she also can’t take it anymore.
She wants them.
Rumi wants Mira and Zoey so badly, in whatever way, shape, or form that comes in.
For once in her life, Rumi wants to be selfish.
It’s the first week since the World Tour’s started that HUNTR/X is back in Seoul. They’re not performing yet, just taking a quick pause to finalize some studio work before the final leg of their tour across South Korea, but it’s nice to take a breather back in their home after so many weeks abroad.
Instead of heading towards the shower as planned, Rumi darts into her room the second evening of this week after recording finishing touches for "Golden’s" official release, scrubs off her make-up as fast as humanly—inhumanly?—possible, and shucks off her work clothes. Almost bolting to the closet, she hastily shoves on a plain turtle neck, an off-white hoodie, and sweatpants. She triplechecks her sleeves and the collar of her shirt, makes sure everything is snug and covering any signs of purple, and breathes shakily.
Her heart hammers in her chest as she creaks her bedroom door open and stands there for a moment, listening to the casual chatter of Mira and Zoey, both of whom are already sprawled out on the couch and relatively dressed down for the day (Mira more so than Zoey), their parts for the recording having wrapped a couple of hours before Rumi’s.
There’s some kind of animal clip compilation playing on mute on the tv, but Rumi only has eyes and ears for the two women she upholds as the most precious parts of her world. Gulping quietly, she feels her ears already heating and slaps both hands to her cheeks.
What is she doing?
She can’t do this.
She can’t just waltz out into the living room and ask for this.
Logically, she knows Mira and Zoey have been willing for a while, and she knows that they’ll wait a while more, as long as Rumi needs.
(What Rumi needs is for the Honmoon to turn gold.)
But she’s a demon, and a liar, and selfish.
She doesn’t want to wait.
She wants them.
Trembling, Rumi steels herself, straightens her back, and strides as casually as she can muster to the couch.
Mira and Zoey light up when they see her, as if it had been two years instead of two hours since she’d last seen them. “Rumi!” they greet, immediately parting to pat the middle cushion between them.
“Come on, let’s relax,” orders Mira, wiggling backwards into the plush of the couch. Her polar bear pajama shirt rides up her thighs with the motion, and Rumi’s breath hitches.
Zoey and Mira both sense something’s off when Rumi doesn’t take the proffered seat, choosing to stand and twist her hands together.
“You good?” Mira asks quietly, a note of concern threading through the question.
“Yeah Rumi, is something wrong? Did something not go well at the recording?” Zoey frowns. A little crinkle appears above her nose. Rumi thinks it may be one of the cutest things she’s ever seen.
Her eyes flit back and forth between them, between their worried looks, and she thinks of how they’d look at her if they knew and shoves that thought back into the recesses of her mind.
Starting to lean forward again, Mira makes it a scant few centimeters before Rumi’s face is suddenly in hers. Her startled gasp dies in her throat; Rumi can see Mira swallow.
“Can I kiss you?” Rumi asks quietly.
Mira’s eyes widen, and she jolts her head up and down in a rapid nod.
That’s all Rumi needs. Angling her head, Rumi reaches a hand up behind Mira’s head and twists her fingers into the long pink hair and pulls her in abruptly, slotting their lips together and kissing Mira like she never has before.
Rumi moves as Mira does, matching each press of lips with her own, pushing Mira’s mouth against hers until she gasps for breath just to have it swallowed by Mira surging back against her.
Stumbling forward, Rumi drops her weight, catching herself with one knee on the edge of the couch, the other leg stretched back to counterbalance. She leans in and presses and kisses and asks for more, pleads for more; Mira’s all too happy to provide. She shifts under Rumi and pushes back, pressing until Rumi breaks away.
Rumi gulps in breath after breath of air and stares at Mira’s disheveled hair, stunned expression, and swollen lips.
Turning her head, Rumi meets the gaze of a very red Zoey, her jaw hanging open, her eyes and pupils blown wide as saucers.
Rumi doesn’t even need to ask Zoey out loud—she just raises her eyebrows in question and knows Zoey well-enough that her subsequent squeak works as a proper yes.
Before Rumi can move, Zoey comes to her in a blink, mouth on Rumi’s faster than expected, whining and excited, knocking their teeth together on accident before succeeding in gaining entry to Rumi’s mouth, licking and gasping. Rumi kisses her back with the same fervor, head turned sideways as she still looms over Mira, the knee balancing her weight pressed up against Mira’s thigh.
When Rumi pulls away this time, she looks at Mira and Zoey, who look back at her, dazed and curious, a singular question read easily in both of their faces.
Rumi flushes as if she hadn’t just tackled her girlfriends to the couch, bites her lip, and nods. Mira and Zoey shiver, but don’t speak; Rumi realizes they’re waiting on her to say it.
Swallowing, Rumi quietly says, “I think I’m ready now.”
Mira and Zoey don’t need any more permission than that.
They surge, Mira grabbing Rumi into another crushing kiss as Zoey peppers Rumi’s neck with the same treatment. Rumi sighs contentedly against Mira’s mouth at each ghost of Zoey’s lips on skin, and then Zoey’s hooked a finger around the collar of her turtleneck and Mira’s scrabbling for the hem of her hoodie and—
Rumi jerks backwards, away from their touches, flushed and panting.
Mira and Zoey immediately still. “Rumi,” Zoey says, “are you sure?”
“We don’t want to pressure you,” Mira adds, concerned.
There’s a tremble as Rumi takes a moment to collect herself, already longing for their touches once more but knowing that it’s an impossibility right now.
Someday, she thinks, someday, when I’m fixed, I can let them touch all of me.
But for now—
Rumi licks her lips and gives her prepared request:
“I want to touch you,” she whispers.
“Oh fuck yes,” Zoey says, lunging forward and yanking Rumi towards her.
With a yelp, Rumi loses her balance and falls directly onto Zoey’s stomach.
The wind leaves Zoey in a whoosh, and Rumi starts to blush for a new reason as Mira begins cackling behind them. “Smooth,” Mira snorts, “so smooth.”
Zoey regains her composure, leans her head around Rumi, and sticks her tongue out at Mira. Rumi starts to push herself up, only for Zoey’s strong arms to tug her back down so she’s lying flush on top of Zoey.
“Do me first,” Zoey says with a grin, nose-to-nose with Rumi. If Zoey catches on to how flustered Rumi is, she doesn’t let it show, her grin softening with encouragement. “You got this, Rumi!”
Rumi blinks. “Are you cheerleading for me?”
“Ummm…” Squinting her eyes, Zoey goes, “Nooooo?”
Groaning, Rumi hangs her head. “Zoey, that’s so embarrassing.”
“Okay, well, how about this!” She grabs Rumi’s hands in her own. “I’ll help you start!” she giggles, placing Rumi’s hands squarely on her chest. Impulsively, Rumi squeezes, and Zoey lets out a high-pitched, breathless laugh. “Okay, yeahyeahyeah, start there—actually, go under—actually—” She sits back up abruptly and knocks her forehead straight into Rumi’s.
Rumi and Zoey both hiss in pain as Mira’s cackle starts back up again. “Oh my god,” Mira chortles, “you two are dorks.”
“It’s our first time—all of ours, Mira, don’t act like it’s not—mistakes are totally normal and definitely not the fault of one Zoey in particular and—”
“Zoey,” Rumi interrupts, “with all due respect, can I go back to—?”
Zoey squeaks. Her face turns as red as Rumi’s sure hers is, and she immediately scrabbles at her T-shirt, pulling it in such a rush that when it’s halfway off, it catches, leaving her arms held in the air and head stuck in cloth.
“Need some help?” Mira asks cockily, and Rumi feels a rush of heat from the way she says it alone.
An indignant Zoey gives a muffled “No!” in response before Mira grabs the shirt and pulls it all the way off.
Rumi freezes, and for as confident as Mira was acting a second ago, she freezes as well.
So does Zoey as soon as she notices them. “What?” she frowns. “Why are you both looking at me?”
Eyes softening even as they rake hungrily over Zoey’s toned stomach, her shoulders, her still hidden cleavage, Mira chuckles, “Zoey, why do you think?”
A little panicked, Zoey asks, “For real, do I have something on me?”
“Yes,” complains Rumi, pulling Zoey into a sudden embrace that quickly becomes apparent as less a hug and more a I-need-to-reach-behind-you-real-quick. Her fingers fumble for just a second on Zoey’s bra clasp, muttering “Why do you even still have this on?” before successfully unhooking it and tossing it aside.
Rumi leans back, inhales sharply, then slowly, gently, reaches her hands out to cup Zoey’s chest, one hand on each breast. They’re…well, Rumi’s felt her own before on the occasional late night, and Zoey’s don’t feel too much different. Soft, supple…In a comparison Rumi will never voice aloud, she also thinks squishable, like a marshmallow plushie.
She’s also drop-dead gorgeous.
And based on her expression, she is enjoying this.
Rumi gently presses them, touching and teasing with nimble fingers, and Zoey’s subsequent moan has Rumi inhaling sharply and pressing her legs tighter together.
The tip of her right index finger starts to circle the bud in the center of one breast, then joins with Rumi’s thumb to roll it slightly between her fingers. Zoey flinches, but her hooded expression tells Rumi that it was caused by something far from fear.
There’s the sound of rustling cloth behind Rumi, and she glances back from Zoey for what's supposed to be a brief second to see Mira shucking off her pajama shirt. Rumi’s jaw drops.
Suddenly, Mira’s lithe, dancer’s body is on near full display as she languidly stretches in her last remaining piece of clothing before catching Rumi’s eye, winking, and yanking that down too, stepping out of it quickly.
She’s beautiful.
Mira’s beautiful and Rumi loves her and Zoey’s beautiful and Rumi loves her and Zoey’s also gaping at Mira now as if she hasn’t already seen her in the bathhouse before and gulping audibly before giving a quick wolf whistle and waggling her eyebrows.
Mira bursts out laughing, her slightly pink cheeks the only reveal that she’s not quite as unaffected by what they’re doing as she’s been pretending to be. “God, you’re so—”
“Hot?” Rumi supplies.
“Smokin’ hot?” Zoey waggles her eyebrows faster.
Actually flushing, Mira quickly steps over to them and mutters, “You’re only this cocky because you’ve still got clothes on.”
“Rumi’s taking her time,” drawls Zoey, grinning at Rumi’s instant flush. “And I’ll have you know, I don’t appreciate you interrupting her warm-up.”
Mira raises an eyebrow at Zoey, then comes up behind Rumi and leans close. “Is over the clothes okay with you?” she asks, voice raspy.
Whimpering, the idea of it more than Rumi had hoped for from this, given her limitations—
her lies, she’s lying to them
—Rumi focuses on Mira’s presence and says, “Yes. Please. Yes please.”
“Cool. Yeah, okay, cool.” Mira feigns nonchalance poorly as she clambers up on the couch right behind Rumi and presses forward. Her chest presses into Rumi’s back, and Rumi wishes desperately that she could feel it , more than just the pressure of it through the hoodie, but it also gives her a good reminder as to what—or who, rather—has been waiting patiently for Rumi.
Zoey’s giggling, Rumi’s guessing a bit out of nerves and a bit out of joy, and suddenly, all Rumi can think of is making Zoey happy, making Zoey feel good, how can she—
She lowers head down, down, down, and tentatively latches her mouth onto Zoey’s breast. Zoey gasps as Rumi scrapes her nipple gently with her teeth, then slowly begins to alternate between sucking and lavishing kisses across the pale skin as her hand plays with Zoey’s other breast, kneading and rubbing and twisting. Rumi pays close attention to every sound that Zoey makes and what causes it, focusing as if she’s learning a new choreography or saingeom move.
When Mira drapes her weight over Rumi, resting her chin on Rumi’s shoulder and snaking her hands around to grope Rumi’s chest through the cloth with the rushing excitement of a teenage boy, Rumi nearly chokes. It’s only Zoey’s continued noises, squeals and whimpers and whines, that keep her where she is, attentive to her task at hand even as her heart hammers with every pressured squeeze of Mira’s hands.
She wants to feel them.
Rumi wants to feel them, she wants to feel them, she wants to feel them, it’s not fair! She’s stuck wearing this stupid hoodie and this stupid turtleneck and Mira’s hands are making her feel things she’s never felt before but she can’t feel them, not fully.
Mira’s naked body is draped on Rumi’s back and her hands are on Rumi’s breasts and Rumi wants to feel them and she can’t, she can’t, she can’t, because she was born with these stupid patterns and she’s lying.
She whimpers in longing and throws herself into her task at hand, lavishing, kissing, worshipping. Rumi moans at Mira’s pressure and starts to move from Zoey’s trembling chest, letting her lips trail in between then down, pressing featherlight kisses to Zoey’s stomach and abdomen as Zoey twitches beneath her.
Before she reaches any lower, Mira’s hands drop from Rumi’s chest and appear in Rumi’s vision to hook around the edges of Zoey’s pajama pants and underwear simultaneously. “Shall we even the playing field?” Mira’s voice is husky, right in Rumi’s ear but loud enough for Zoey to catch too.
Zoey smirks uncertainly. “Yeah, I guess,” she sighs exaggeratedly, “if you just can’t handle being the only one then—ah!”
At the teasing, any incentive for Mira to go slow vanishes, and her long arms, still wrapped partially around Rumi, pull the rest of Zoey’s clothing down in one go…Mostly one go. The pants get stuck around Zoey’s ankles and Rumi sits up and starts laughing as Zoey kicks her feet frantically.
“Oh my god, Zoey,” Mira huffs in humorous disbelief. “Here, let me—” She rolls off of Rumi and bends down to tug the last of Zoey’s clothing off her.
“Guys,” Zoey says, “we are doing so great at sex right now.”
Rumi laughs harder. She throws her head back, her braid swaying freely after being trapped beneath Mira, and clutches her stomach.
Snorting, Mira adds, “Totally. Top of the charts level sex, right here.”
Between giggles, Rumi adds, “HUNTR/X girls to—to the—world!”
“Rumi,” Zoey breathes, “you are so freaking cute.”
Her laughter dying in a strangled squeak, she meets the sparkling eyes of her girlfriends and smiles shyly back, as if a moment ago she wasn’t sandwiched between their naked bodies. Stammering, Rumi looks over them both and swallows and asks, “Can I…touch you?”
“Which one?” Mira raises her eyebrow.
In a breathy whisper, Rumi says, “You. If…if that’s okay.”
Mira’s eyes widen. She springs into action immediately, grabbing Rumi’s wrist in one hand and Zoey’s in the other. Muttering a quick, “We probably shouldn’t do this on the couch,” Mira guides the both of them with little resistance to her bedroom.
Breathing hard, Mira sits heavily on the edge of the bed, her legs braced on the floor as she spreads them open.
Zoey wolf whistles again.
“I—” Mira clears her throat, nearly as pink as her hair. “I have a suggestion. Rumi, you can—please do whatever you want, in a second. But first, Zoey, I—” She clears her throat again, looking away. “I was thinking I might lean back on the bed, and you could maybe crawl over and, um, sit above me. Or something. If that's cool with you. Is that…okay?”
Zoey’s scrambling before Mira even finishes asking the question, hauling herself on the bed and coming up behind Mira to press her shoulders down until her back is lying flat on the comforter. “It is. So okay, Mira, you don’t even know.” Zoey almost trips over words as she gets on her knees and straddles Mira’s face. “Just, you know. Let me know when.”
“When,” Mira begs.
Rumi watches quietly as Zoey takes a deep breath, a hint of nerves overtaking her excitement. When Zoey catches Rumi's eye, Rumi smiles reassuringly. Zoey bites her lip and nods, then lowers herself onto Mira and lets out the loudest groan Rumi’s heard from her yet as Mira immediately latches onto Zoey with fervor. Zoey’s eyes are closed and mouth is open and constantly moaning, and the sounds of Mira devouring Zoey are new and hot and all of it pools straight between Rumi’s legs and also—
It pools into her heart, twisting and turning black with jealousy because Rumi wants that too, she wants to be on top of Mira, she wants someone to touch her and it hurts and—
And this is her first time having sex, and she’s doing it with her two favorite people in the world, and it’s not about Rumi right now, it’s about Zoey and it’s about Mira. Rumi wants to make sure they have the best night of their lives.
Reaching forward, Rumi falls to her knees between Mira’s legs and looks. Rumi’s eyes rove over the whole area, across Mira’s muscled thighs, her curls, her folds, wet and glistening, and Rumi touches her delicately, as if she’s made of glass; fragile and easily broken.
Mira’s hips twitch and Rumi hears Mira grunt beneath Zoey; Rumi’s impressed she even caught it with how loud Zoey’s become, her gasps and moans and whines filling the room.
Rumi swallows and focuses on making sure Mira ends tonight as satisfied as she can feasibly be. Slowly, she trails her index finger through the wet.
She’s gentle, teasing, and part of her delights in the way Mira’s hips seem to react to every little brush of Rumi’s fingertips. Yes, this Rumi can do.
Rumi takes her time. Maybe it’s a need to warm up, like Zoey teased earlier, maybe it’s because she’s doing her best to shove down certain thoughts clamoring to be at the forefront of her mind, but maybe, it’s because Rumi’s, surprisingly, not nervous at all.
She’s embarrassed, she’s been embarrassed since she came home intending to spark all of this, but she’s warm and she’s happy and she’s comfortable. Mira and Zoey are familiar, and Rumi knows that she trusts them implicitly.
but they can’t trust Rumi, can they?
lies, liar, DEMON
Rumi slips her finger inside Mira and gasps in tandem with her. Mira’s warm and wet and alive, pulsing and gripping. Rumi pushes further, rewarded by both a groan from Mira and a moan from Zoey—a chain reaction, of sorts.
Slowly, Rumi pulls her (nail-less, she came prepared) finger back out, then pushes it back in. She finds a rhythm, adagio, leisurely pushing in and pulling out. She makes sure every stroke caresses Mira’s walls with the gentleness of a goodbye kiss, and every touch she’s rewarded with Mira’s and Zoey’s sounds of satisfaction.
Curious, after a few more strokes, Rumi decides to add a second finger. When she presses in, Mira’s hips buck in instant approval.
Rumi pulls out, in, out, in, and starts to go faster. She curls her fingers inside Mira, probing, searching, pulling out and back in again to search some more. Mira’s clearly receptive, but Rumi wants to do more, wants to make sure Mira wants for nothing.
On one particular curl, Mira nearly seizes, and Rumi grins wolfishly.
There it is.
She presses again, just to make sure, and Mira lets out a startled cry followed by a muffled “fuck, Rumi”. Zoey whines at the vibrations from Mira’s throat, bouncing slightly as she hovers in position. “Keep doing whatever you’re doing, Rumi,” Zoey gasps, “because oh my god.”
That’s her cue.
Rumi withdraws her fingers, checking for that sweet spot one more time, then thrusts them back in at the same place. She starts thrusting in earnest, curling her fingers with every stroke as Mira and Zoey continue to loudly let her know what a good job she’s doing.
The sound of her fingers sliding in and out is slick and wet and Rumi bites her lip to keep herself from moaning as her thighs clench tighter. She pumps in and out steadily to an internal tempo of one of their new songs, curling and pressing for that same spot every time she does.
Rumi’s breath is ragged just from watching, watching Zoey, watching Mira, watching her fingers thrusting over and over again, and Rumi thinks on what else she can do to show her girls how much she loves them, cherishes them, worships them.
Leaning forward, Rumi closes her mouth around a peeking bundle of nerves, and Mira screams.
“Ruuuumiiiii,” Mira groans into Zoey, jerking her hips. Rumi presses them down with one hand, leaning her body weight into it, and starts to suck while her fingers keep pumping. Each slide of her hand seems to move faster as it moves in and out through progressively wetter folds.
Rumi revels in the taste, in the smell, in being entrenched in Mira body and soul. She imbues every lick, every swallow, with how much Mira means to her, and how much Zoey means to her, how Rumi can’t ever imagine a life without them—
they’ll find out. they’ll leave. they’ll attack her and hate her and leave her
Curling her fingers deep inside, Rumi buries herself in the taste of Mira as she unravels above Rumi, coming undone with an actual scream that brings Zoey to her own completion.
Rumi swallows and reluctantly pulls her fingers out from Mira’s fluttering grip on them. She stands to her feet and looks at her girls with a smile.
Zoey falls over onto the bed next to Mira and splays her arms out. Mira’s still lying on her back, face as smeared as Rumi’s is sure hers is, eyes glassy, hair wildly splayed below her. Her chest is heaving, sweat trickling down her neck, her chest, her abdomen.
Much the same, Zoey catches her breath, before beaming wildly and tossing double fist bumps in the air to yell, “My girlfriends and I just had seeex!”
Rumi and Mira blink, turn to stare at Zoey, and melt.
Groaning, Mira sits up, helping Zoey do the same. “Rumi,” Zoey’s saying as she gets up, “not like, right now, but sometime soon, I need you to do to me whatever you did to Mira, because like, Mira already felt amazing and then she was amazing amazing, you know?”
Zoey’s grin is sweet and kind, and no, Rumi doesn’t know.
She subtly adjusts how she stands to press her legs together, as if the pressure will do anything to help the pent-up, unreleased heat coiling between her thighs.
“That was—Rumi, that was something. Wow.” Mira’s gaze is gentle, and Rumi’s so happy that her girls are satisfied.
They bask for a moment in the afterglow, each of them watching the other softly, tenderly; Rumi’s thinking how she could possibly be this lucky, to have met two women so perfectly attuned to her that they’re practically soulmates.
Suddenly, Zoey gasps. “Rumi! Oh my god! What about you?!”
Mira’s breath hitches. “You didn’t—shit, Rumi, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think—”
Rumi smiles, as wide as she can, and hopes it doesn’t look too unnatural. “Oh,” she says, chuckling nervously, “I, um, I’m good. I finished too, just quieter than you guys.”
“But Rumi, we barely touched you…” Mira trails off.
Rubbing the back of her neck, Rumi shifts her weight, desperately trying to ignore the need still burning within her. “Seeing you two happy was all I needed, haha…”
Zoey coos, “Awww, Rumi you’re the sweetest!” She bounces off the bed, flings herself around Rumi’s shoulders, and plants a quick, sloppy kiss on Rumi’s lips. Pulling away, Zoey fake gags and goes, “Ewww, you taste like Mira.”
“I—excuse me?” Mira scowls, coming off the bed to loom menacingly over Zoey.
Zoey shrugs. “Listen, I guess that’s just how it is, can’t control the—mmf!” Mira cuts her off with another kiss, deliberately smushing their faces together to rub some of Zoey’s mess back on the culprit.
Sputtering, Zoey goes, “Wait, okay, that was weird, that’s what I taste like?” She ponders it for a second. “...Actually I take back what I said about yours and mine, it’s kinda hot.”
Mira rolls her eyes and lightly shoves Zoey’s shoulder as she giggles.
Rumi clears her throat. “Thank you,” she murmurs, “for indulging me so suddenly.”
“Rumi, you can’t thank us for sex, that makes it feel like a favor,” Zoey says.
Mira flicks her in the forehead. “I think it’s very polite.” She steps to Rumi and pulls her in for a languid, lazy kiss. Rumi’s heart skips a beat and her body screams as she tastes both girls on Mira’s tongue. Pulling back, Mira smiles. “That was my thank you.” Looking down at herself, then to the bed, Mira sighs. “Why did I choose my bed, exactly?”
“Because you looove us,” Zoey teases.
Mira rolls her eyes. “Sure,” she says, the love implied in the softness of her voice. “Now, I’m gonna go take a shower, then run this down to the washing machine. I’d recommend you two shower as well.” When Zoey opens her mouth, Mira quickly adds, “Separately. I've got a lot of hair to wash and do not need you distracting me.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Zoey salutes, then bounces off to her shower.
Rumi and Mira snicker as they hear a faint “wait, where’d I leave my clothes”, before Mira lightly taps Rumi on the nose and says, “You too. Shower. And actually maybe laundry too, since you chose to do this clothed.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Rumi imitates Zoey, her composure cracking almost immediately as Mira lets out a startled snort.
Rumi takes her leave, smiling at making her girls happy.
She’s satisfied.
This was good.
She enters her bathroom, locks the door, and starts stripping out of her clothes.
This was what she wanted.
She turns the shower on, undoes her braid, and steps in, avoiding looking in the mirror.
This was everything Rumi wanted.
Her hand reaches between her legs and slips two fingers inside immediately.
Rumi got to be with Mira and Zoey, her girlfriends.
Her fingers pump messily, frantically.
Mira and Zoey are satisfied, and so’s Rumi.
The pumps become desperate.
This was her first time having sex, and it was everything she wanted it to be. Mira and Zoey were satisfied, and that’s all that matters. They were bare and open with Rumi, and that’s all that matters.
…
liar
Rumi comes quietly, her previously unoccupied hand over her mouth to muffle her cries.
The ache still throbs uncomfortably between her thighs.
She lifts her head into the shower spray, lets the water wash down her face, and pretends that the droplets trailing down her cheeks couldn’t possibly be from anything else.
