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Planet Earth is spinning endlessly outside the porthole, showcasing its wonder like a beautifully intricate marble. Above, little dots of light, stars, galaxies or other wonders paint the black canvas of the universe in blotches and specks humans have long turned into constellation. The view is breathtaking.
Rumi isn't looking at it.
At this very moment of her existence, the only constellations that concern her are the ones drawn by the hundreds of freckles on her girlfriend's skin. She's intimately familiar with them, could almost draw them from memory even as they shift and ebb and flow with the season and exposure to the sun. Now, a few weeks after boarding the ISS, the lack of UV exposure have them fading slightly, justifying an in-depth examination by Rumi.
She traces them with her thumbs as they start under Zoey's eyes, highlighting her adorable round cheeks made for smiling, finds them again at the base of her neck with featherlight touches of her long fingers, hold them in the palm of her hands as they dance on her shoulder, grab them with full force as they reach her waist and dives to taste them with her mouth as they sprinkle on her beautifully cute chest.
Zoey's breath catch, and it's the only thing Rumi hears, despite the unending hum of the machines around them.
Rumi doesn't remember exactly how they got here. She was… measuring something? Or redacting? Doing something productive, surely, unless she got lost in the —still— unbelievable scenery outside the station. All that she knows is that Zoey arrived in her field of vision spinning, looking at her from below like a weird aquatic cat, a mischievous smirk on her face.
"Mira's sleeping. Want to do an experiment?"
Rumi had meant to ask, she thinks? However, Zoey immediately captured her lips in a searing kiss and halted her brain midway through the process. Then, Rumi realized that Zoey had discarded her t-shirt and all higher cognitive functions walked out the hatch.
It feels a bit embarrassing, somewhere far away in the back of her brain, how eagerly Rumi let herself be caught in Zoey's orbit. She would blame it on her being pent up after weeks of sharing a space with three other astronauts, if she had the mental capacity for that. Never having privacy for more than a few sneaky kisses here and there, enough to taste and dream of more, never enough to satiate the growing hunger.
Normally, Rumi would take her time. Savor every inch of Zoey's perfect body, massage her thighs long enough to make her groan halfway between content and frustrated, caress her until she begged for more, and kiss her protestations away. But here, now, they need to sneak it quickly, while their friend and colleague is asleep.
And Rumi is starving.
So she asks. "Zoey, can I eat you?"
Zoey shudders so hard it's almost a spasm, and without a second thought, discards her bottom layers in one smooth movement. The clothes float away, forgotten, and Rumi drink in the sight.
There's something ethereal about Zoey, naked, floating in front of her with her hair spread out in a halo behind her head.
There's also something properly indecent with the way the lack of gravity allowed her to simply grab her lover and move her where she wanted her.
Rumi grabs onto Zoey's hips, braces against the wall and pivots her upward until her lower lips are level with Rumi's upper ones. Zoey immediately hook her legs on her shoulders, trapping Rumi closer to the glistening painted on the inside of her thighs.
"Someone's eager," giggles Rumi.
"Shut up," breathes out Zoey, "it's been ages since you la-aaah!" The sentences dies in a moan, as Rumi laps at the wetness in one long movement.
Rumi can't help it. Zoey's cunt is right there, smells tantalizing, and Rumi knows that Zoey wants it, is already desperate for it. Still, Rumi takes her time, just a little. She licks, kisses, and nibble at the inside of Zoey's thighs, until the younger woman whines. "Rumi… Rumi plea-AH!"
Zoey should have seen it coming, really. It's Rumi favorite's trick. Tease her until she begs, and then, abruptly, give her everything she wanted at full intensity. It never misses.
She laps and laps, movement rough and pressing, suck at her clit, presses her warm tongue at the entrance, and Zoey unravels. Her hands fly at Rumi's hair, pulling painfully, and Rumi never stops sucking, only releasing the iron grip she has on Zoey's leg to sneak a hand closer and slide a finger against her entrance in a silent question.
Zoey whines but pulls away from it a little. "Rumi, wait I'm— Fuck, I need to…" Zoey babbles and Rumi pauses her movement, not before taking one last featherlight nip at her clit.
"Ah— you—!" Zoey gasps. "Gimme a second I just want…"
Zoey maneuvers them around with slightly uncoordinated limbs until she has her back to Rumi's front and they're both facing the porthole. She twist to taste herself on Rumi's lips before melting back into her, Rumi's arms snaking around her middle section.
The position is familiar. Zoey wants to be absolutely pampered.
So be it. Rumi is very far from complaining. Her left hand snakes up to Zoey's right breast while her right slips between her thighs, only to be trapped midway by the strong muscles. Well, that will not do. Rumi nibbles a bit at Zoey's ear, kisses her behind it and massage her breast, murmurs a sweet "Open for me, pretty girl?"
It sounds like a question. They both know it is not. Not when Zoey is this flushed and sweaty against her, so desperate for relief. They also both know how much better it feels when Zoey doesn't obey immediately, so it isn't a surprise when Zoey protests a little. "Wait, Rumi, I'm just getting—"
"Zoey. Open." The tone is syrupy, soft. Unyielding.
Zoey opens slightly. Rumi tuts and use both her hands to force her as wide open as possible, and immediately hooks both her legs over Zoey's. It wouldn't do to give her the chance to change her mind.
Her prey entirely at her mercy, and both hands now free, Rumi begins her feverish assault in earnest. One hand pinches a nipple hard, while the other start tracing large, intense circles over her clit, and her mouth leaves kisses and bites randomly interspersed along her neck and shoulder.
It doesn't take long for Zoey to beg. "Insi—ah! Rumi, please!"
Rumi hums, almost mocking. "Yes, baby? What do you want?"
"Please, please, please, pleaseplease, I need— ah! Please!"
Rumi pinches, lightly on her clit, hard on her nipple, and admonishes. "Please what, Zoey? Just tell me."
Zoey keens, but folds immediately. "Inside Rumi, I need you inside!"
"There you go." She praises, halfway between genuine and condescendingly. She slides one finger for exactly one pump and immediately adds another, because Zoey is wet enough and she deserves it.
It doesn't take long, after that, pumping with her palm pressing on Zoey's clit. Zoey throws her hands backward, grabbing at Rumi's t-shirt, her hair, anything to get some anchor as the float in mid-air, and she babbles in between moans. "Ohh, don't stop, don't stop, don'stop, don'st—Ah, Rumi, Rumi-i-i!"
She comes in spasms, keening and trembling in Rumi's iron grip, and Rumi helps her ride the orgasm by drawing sharp circles against her clit all while Zoey sprays clear liquid against the window.
There's a distant part of Rumi's brain that realize how badly they just ruined the place, but that part is easily drowned out, lost in the haze and comfort of them cuddling in zero-G, right after an orgasm so strong Rumi thinks she came a little herself. They drift like that for a while before Rumi's back touches the wall behind her. Still she doesn't release Zoey, still putty in her arms.
The moment shatters with a disbelieving. "What the fuck."
Mira, very clearly having just woken up, adjust her glasses as if the scene would make more sense with sharper vision. Cold, embarrassed dread courses through Rumi's spine. She instinctively spins to cover her girlfriend's fully naked body with her fully clothed one. "I—uh… we just…"
Mira stops her useless justification with an open hand, a pinch of her nose and the longest sigh ever sighed. She brings her communicator to her ear and speaks with deadpan tone. "Everything's alright, Houston. They were just too distracted and stupid for check-in. I'm going back to bed."
She cuts the communication and points a accusing finger at Rumi. "This better be all sparkling clean when I wake up, or so help me you two…"
Rumi only nod, her face hotter than the surface of the sun. Zoey only giggles and shoots a thumb-up at their disgruntled friend.
"Oh my god, I can't believe we did that…" mourns Rumi for the hundredth time, trying her best to soak up all the moisture.
"I think I saw god, actually," quips Zoey. "She said good job."
Rumi only groans.
"Oh, don't forget to weigh all the liquid, afterward!" adds Zoey, as if this wasn't the single most unhinged thing she ever said.
"What."
"Yeah, with our combined weight and the weight of the liquid, plus the time it took us to go from roughly immobile here all the way to the other wall, I can calculate how fast I squirted!"
Rumi stares, mouth open, long enough that Zoey turns back to her. "What? It's important science! Very scientific!"
"I didn't measure how long it took." Rumi kind of wants to scream. How is that her answer? What the FUCK, Zoey?!
But Zoey is either blind to her stupefaction or delights in it. She shrugs happily, "Guess we'll have to run the experiment again!"
Rumi kisses her.
It's that or strangling her, honestly.