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It's a scramble to find Zoey in the flurry of caresses and clothes that follow in their pursuit.
First the crewneck Mira throws over her head as Rumi flusteredly closes the door leading to their roof. The cropped tank top that lands to their feet when Mira pins her said door, bringing her hands to her waist. Under the shirt, cool hands on warm skin that guide the fabric up and up in between brute kisses and nips. Stumbling into the living room, Rumi trips over her joggers along with her underwear and almost falls face first into the couch before Mira catches her by the hip. They chuckle, briefly sitting on the sofa to remove the annoying garment before entangling themselves with teeth and claws towards their bedrooms.
They find the makanae, or well she finds them bursting into her room clashing lips and onto her desk chair. Mira sits on Rumi’s lap, making contact with her dripping core that seeps into Mira’s grey sweats. Zoey in shock, holding her game console to her chest, her eyes bulge out in the scene they set. Adorned in her favorite manta ray patterned briefs and a simple white shirt. Hair undone from her space buns. The air was a sharp contrast to the soft flute and whistles that played from her game. Her focus was consumed by their moment. Rumi’s fingers intertwine tight in pink hair as they kiss. Mira’s thighs wrapped around Rumi’s waist, nails dragging down her back. Carving marks like red thread, weaving her claim on the leader.
Before Zoey can let the words flow, Mira interrupts. Lips bruised and eyes dark with desire and something more. She smirks. “Hey Zoey, look at what we just discovered..”
She turns her attention back to Rumi, who pants as kisses trail downward. Careful but with the intention of learning the choreography that brings the sweetest whimpers and grunts from the girl above. Mira commits the steps to memory before moving her head up to whisper past the purple braid.
“Rumi, make your sword for me?”
With slight hesitancy, Rumi looks down to question Mira. Their eyes connect in soft pause, no words pass but the respect and trust do. Patterns flicker colors of a sunrise. Conjuring her saber to her hand, the Honmoon answers the call with waves turquoise and magenta to apparate around it. She carefully hands the blade to Mira. Zoey places her console on the nightstand, eyes glued on them before she sits up in curious heat. Gripping the sheets with anticipated, caught breath. A sight she never thought she’d never see outside dreams and mind blowing fanfiction, Mira kneeling between Rumi’s thighs. Mira grasps the sword hilt lightly, leaning the sharp metal against the chair between Rumi’s legs to be supported with the cross guard.
“Stay.” Mira orders, placing her hands on her waist. Rumi’s breath hitches before she swallows and grips the chair cushion. Questioning the pommel, with a squelch Mira takes it into her mouth and gives it a hard suck. Rumi gives a choked gasp, her hips arching up at the sensation. Her patterns spark up in magenta and pink. Two purple horns grow from her head suddenly, one of her eyes shut while the other glows like a star. Mira’s hands quickly shift down to her thighs and push her back down. Her whines echo like wood in a bonfire, crackling the honmoon with its timbre. Sheets shuffle off to the side as Zoey can’t help but move closer to watch. With a pop pulling off, Mira scolds. “Don’t go anywhere. We are performing right now. Put on a good show for her, Ru.”
With no warning, tired of taking it slow, Mira sheathes about a quarter of Rumi’s haft down her throat. Not caring as she gags and is pushed further by the rushed hand of the girl above. Rumi almost writhes despite the hands that pin her to the chair. Paired with a low groan that sounds above, lets her know to continue her pursuit.
It's like her body moves before Zoey realizes that she’s moved behind Rumi in the chair. Staring down at her two band members, she watches as Mira serenades the spiritual weapon. Her tongue traces up the engraved handle, groaning as she returns attention to the ornate knob. A sharp inhale comes from the makanae. She hesitates for a moment, unsure what to do; before her gaze meets Rumi’s piercing topaz eye.
“Zoey, please.. join us. Need you.. please.” She begs, panting and gritting her teeth as Mira sucks harder and runs her nails down the handle. Zoey can see the forming bruise from her legs resting on the saber's cruciform. Its purples and reds mix like paint on patterned canvas. Contrasting the darker purple curls of pubic hair.
“Please.. please.. Zo.” Rumi practically whines. Biting her lip as she looks back at the brunette. The younger one steps closer, front to the back of the seat. The room is filled with so much heat and unwound tension that she removes her shirt. The article of clothing that scatters a few notebooks and pencils on her desk. But they three agree that there are more important matters at hand.
Now only in her briefs, Zoey places hand on the back of the chair. The other rests on Rumi’s shoulder. She looks down at Rumi’s swollen lips, before looking back up. She doesn't want to be too much, asking to join in. Even if Rumi has given her the verbal go ahead. She wants to be sure she doesn't fuck up again. Not like when she armed herself in fear at the Idol Awards.
Rumi makes sure she knows she's welcome in their moment. Pulling her forward from her neck, she initiates a deep kiss between them. It's different from Rumi’s first kiss with Mira. It's sweet but rough, a dance that calculates and asks for every step. Collaborating like partners do. Like they all do. Zoey's hand rakes up from her shoulder to her cheek. And the moment they pull away from each other, Zoey pushes her thumb into Rumi’s mouth. She holds it open, the finger flat and pushing down her tongue. Her index finger scrapes against a fang, not too deep; but enough for the smallest bit of blood to paint the tip of Rumi’s tongue red. The copper tinge further fogging the half demon’s brain.
Saliva spills onto her bra. The makanae coos, watching it seep into the fabric. Marking and ruining the stupid cover up. Rumi huffs, cheeks redden, embarrassed but turned on as she realizes Mira has sat up on her legs to lean back and watch her make a further mess of herself. Her hands caressing her legs as she admires the view.
And Mira thinks it's the one of the best portraits she's ever seen of Rumi. Not the ones from the magazines or photo cards. But in this hour, spread out on this chair. Flanked between them. The rapper holding their leaders mouth agape. The pooling of arousal that leaks onto the cushion. Legs shivering after the praise of her strength incarnate. Sweaty skin garnished in teal and pink patterns with bruises and red lines.
She's golden in Mira’s eyes.
Maybe during their upcoming hiatus, she could paint this memory.
Oh she definitely will.
“Someone made a mess of this.. we should take it off, yeah?” Zoey says, clearing her throat. Slipping her finger out of her mouth. Rumi whimpers before nodding and leaning forward to give her access. Unclamping her bra, the undergarment lands on an empty bird cage. Sussie usually comes back before sunrise. There's plenty of time before that magpie needs to rest.
Almost immediately, Zoey removes her own shirt. Rumi feels pebbled nipples graze her shoulder blades. Her huff of laughter is cut off by Mira, who drags her nails down her thighs. Rumi squeals then gasps, jolting up into Zoey’s ready hands, pushing and caressing her upper chest. Fingers that trace patterns like a labyrinth to solve and memorize. They light up teal from underneath their path. “That’s it Unnie.. We’ve got you.”
Shifting upwards, a hand moves just below her jaw on the half demon’s throat. The other leaves her shortly, before she senses the ethereal cyan drum that emanates from the summoning of…
Oh fuck.
Rumi moans, ravaged on both sides. Mira’s mouth back to suckling on her cli- pommel when she realizes what the girl behind her did. That's one of Zoey’s incandescent shin-kal laying flat against where Rumi’s heart is. God really is a woman.
The short blade moves like a boat in smooth waters, it makes a route down to her stomach then upwards back to her tit. Behind her she can hear the makanae’s breathing falter, the shaky tonation that lets Rumi know that she can feel from her razor. Rumi begins to shake, feeling herself get closer to the edge. Panting and leaning her head back into Zoey’s breast. Her two pursuers don’t let up, Mira getting into a harsh rhythm of licking the handle and sucking harder. Zoey makes use of her armament, tapping skin as a warning before a heavy slap stamps red on her stomach. Rumi howls and tears hang from her eyes, she grits her teeth whimpering. Despite her white knuckling the chair, she wasn’t expecting to like that at all. The amount of precum that’s sprayed onto the floor being the number one evidence of that. The pulsing ache of her swollen clit. The brunette behind her shudders after the impact, like she took the blunt force herself. A chin meets atop the lavender braid, a stabilizing short moment between them.
Suddenly, Mira slides off the sword and stands. For a period, watching the girls huff and recoup. If anyone were to describe the look in Mira’s eyes, you’d think she was watching the soft morning daybreak. It feels like hours when Zoey feels hands settle at her waist.
“Don’t think we’ve forgotten you, Aein.” Mira murmurs, tightening her grasp on one hand while the other sinks fingers into her scalp. With a secure tug, she brings Zoey’s head up to face her before kissing her with equal fervor as Rumi. The taste of the hot pink goddess is intoxicating, a grounding manchego of Mira mixed with heavenly red wine essence of Rumi.
She wants more, no; she needs more.
Zoey takes initiative and spins them around. Drifting slightly from the chair they circle back and burn disheveled in front of their Unnie. Skimming fingers over freckles and curves. Zoey's lowered hand gropes Mira’s ass, kneading before a swat makes her shudder and bite her lip. A fluttering moment before they pull away and both glance at their melting leader. Her tail now present, thumping and wagging behind her on the floor.
But the sight alone isn’t the only thing that makes them want to pounce. It’s the pathetic garble of Rumi’s words that sends tantalizing goosebumps down their vertebrae.
“Mo-re.. Mor..e.. Go-gods, please.. f-fuck.. Need.. n-need you.. Both.. p-lease..”
That’s what makes them snap.
The request makes them move fast, Mira sits on Rumi’s lap, back facing her. Zoey squats facing the choreographer, stabilizing herself on Mira’s thighs. Both look down at the sword between them. Three pulses quicken at the intake of heat before they continue. A questioning squeeze on Rumi’s waist from Mira. Zoey gently lifts Mira’s jaw to face her eyes, a caress along it before a trail of kisses give her time to back away. Rumi puts her chin on Mira’s shoulder, eyes soften briefly at her girls.
Whispers of affirmations and soft promises leave their lips. Knowing even though they’ve already taken the leap, they’ll take the next steps together. So they do.
Zoey crawls up slightly, testing the pommel at her pussy. It’s not like she needs much work to open herself up. But this is Rumi, she glances over Mira’s shoulder to look at her. The girl in the chair is flushed and watching eagerly. She nods, a slight shiver and flicker of pink passing over her. Letting herself grind against the knob, she slicks up the holy metal. It brushes up to her clit, making her squirm and rock a little harder into it. A mix of whines and groans spill in front of her that make her smirk and snicker, before pushing the crownpiece into herself. Igniting a low moan from Rumi, the warmth making her head spin and body spasm. Taking her time, Zoey kisses down Mira’s neck; blending abstract reminders of teeth marks and bruises.
She finally sinks down to the crossguard, a pleading and delighted whimper leaving her. The damn textured ridges of the handle that leave her shivering. She makes no sudden move just yet. She still needs to make sure Mira is taken care of too.
Taking Mira’s lower jaw into her hand, Zoey leans forward to kiss the pink haired girl. It's sloppy and unrelenting as Rumi watches the episode presented to her. The girls she loves, the ones she’ll protect; for the rest of her days. With her hand, Zoey presses her thumb and middle finger slightly against Mira’s arteries. The loss of circulation makes her breath hitch, her body freeze. Bringing her other hand to Mira’s waist, she grips as she starts grinding her own on the spiritual cock.
Rumi shivers and lets out a low moan, the feeling of the warmth of Zoey around her. She never knew the connection to the Honmoon could leave her so dazed and down. She practically jumps when she feels Zoey pull out before slamming back down to grind once more. So deep.. So damn good.. sensitive.
Zoey withdraws, not without leaving a clear tether of saliva between her and Mira before moaning. “Fuck, Rumi… you feel so good inside me.. S-shit!” A sharp cry from Rumi’s lips as Zoey increases the rocking of her hips.
“Mira, baby, I want to make you feel good too, ngh.. Can I please?” A breath leaves the older woman as Zoey shifts her hand to the other side of Mira’s waist and trails kisses down to the crook of her neck. Leaving nips and sucks in the promise of her query. Sniffs under her armpits and groans like she’s the ocean breeze itself.
“Yeah, fuck please Zo..”
Taking that permission, the sable head grins against her flesh before sinking her teeth above Mira’s collarbone. Who arches and yelps at the jaws of life given to her. Mira juts her arms behind her to dagger her nails into Rumi’s thighs. The vocalist makes a high pitched whine track of the century in return. Slight cracks are heard from the seat cushion, pushed aside in attention for more important matters.
More embellished teeth marks are left on Mira, the heat they leave melt her more. Sharp but delicious carvings that designate her ownership. But that isn’t the only thing that catches Mira’s attention.
It's when Zoey cups her cunt like she’s testing a juicy peach ready to be eaten that a whimper leaves her. Zoey chuckles as she looks up to the dancer, eyes heavily and lips bruised. Her eyes briefly shift up to Rumi, who is drooling on the corner of her open gaping mouth. Almost gone, a clouded gaze back at her. Gazing back at Mira, Zoey’s eyes soften briefly before slowly circling her folds and clit.
“I’ve got you, Mir.. You deserve to be taken care of too… let me. Take me.”
Mira nods, not trusting herself to use words. She gasps when Zoey slides two fingers into her cunt. A relieved sob leaves her, shoulders slumping. “God, Please Zo..”
“Tell me what you need, Mira.”
“Harder.. Please. Zoey, I need you harder.”
“Good girl.”
So she follows the plea. Zoey cants her hips harsher and inserts a third finger before pushing harder up into Mira.
Mira leans back against Rumi, tilting her head to the side to take one of Rumi’s nipples into her mouth. Rolling it gently between her teeth despite the fog in her brain. Rumi squeals and cants her hips up to match the pace Zoey has placed. The fingers inside her thrusts deeper. Spurred on, Rumi reaches forward and hurriedly strokes Zoey’s clit. Rumi knows she won’t last much longer, she growls and bites down on Mira’s shoulder. The model grunts and digs her fingers deeper into her thighs, stabilizing herself in this sandwich.
“Guys.. fuck, I’m close.. Ahh..” Zoey whines as she bucks her hips up into Rumi’s hand.
“Same, Zo.. gah shit.. Same.. Ru?” Mira’s eyes meet Rumi’s as her teeth detach and her head falls forward. A low keen answer back, before spotlight eyes reappear.
“Gods.. yeah.. Gonna cum soon.. Together?”
Zoey hums, while beginning to bounce on the divine dildo. Mira starts to shake and grinds between the fingers in her cunt and her ass against Rumi’s pussy. Rumi returns to being slack jawed, Zoey smirks at the sight. Wishing her polaroid wasn’t on the living room table. Her hips and hands begin to stutter. Mira lets herself be crushed in the middle, moaning as she gets pounded with a fourth finger stretching her out further.
Rumi’s patterns brighten gold as she lets out a silent scream and cums. Sobbing as she feels Zoey clench around her. Slamming against the crossguard forcefully one last time before a guttural scream sirens Mira to fall with Zoey. Mira feels the makanae gush out onto her thighs, meanwhile finding herself falling back against Rumi fully, arching and releasing and sliding off Zoey’s fingers. Tears that had been pooling finally fell down Mira’s cheeks, tremors wild as the waves hit her.
It’s a brief moment before any of them move. Spent and loved can do that when it has been unspoken for so long.
Zoey slips off the handle, koala hugging the fuchsia haired woman. She curses and whimpers with its absence. Heaving before snuggling her partners.
Rumi dissipates the sword before resting her head atop Mira’s. Toppling over each other in a pile, they catch their breaths. They make no move to do anything yet. Just respite in respiration and warmth. Murmurs of praise and treasured marvels they hadn’t told each other.
That is.. When they hear a loud crack and one of the legs of the chair collapses in on itself. The chair crushing down onto itself, they hold each other through the fall. They yelp and giggle, checking for injuries and finding none. A kiss on Rumi’s collarbone, a thumb swipes Mira’s cheek in relief. Eventually they stand and move the broken chair near a trash bin. They can always buy another one anyway. One by one, they make their way into Zoey’s private bathroom. First Zoey, then Mira. And before Rumi closes the door, she glances back to the broken chair and thinks to herself, snickering and shaking her head.
Maybe we should move this to the bed next time.