Work Text:
Mira
Something was up with Rumi. After being able to do what they wanted with no one to bother them for months it was gruelling getting back to it. Endless lists of things to remember and do - so many people wanting their attention and their energy. It was fun, sure, but pretty tiring. Rumi usually thrived in the organised chaos that was their lives; always in the middle of things, always working tirelessly, always busy. But today had been - off.
It had started in the morning with the photoshoot and the heavy make up she was supposed to wear to cover the shine from her patterns against the lights. Tight lipped and curt, the closest she ever got to showing displeasure, she’d stopped listening to the director and they’d struggled for much longer than they should have to get the shot. It was straight from there to an interview - through the crush of press that followed them like a pack of braying dogs. More pictures, phones shoved in their faces, yelling, it was enough to make anyone exhausted but poor Rumi got the worst. Endless, constant, questions about the same things over and over. What was the breakup over? How long had she had tattoos? Did she trust us not to do something similar again? She’d stumbled through their prepared answers with no grace and the interviewer had pressed, hard. Mira saw the way her eyebrows had tightened and her smile had lost its shine. Subtle enough that no one that didn’t know her well would notice. Rumi was very good at hiding how she felt. Then practice. Mira had been looking forward to it - she had a flurry of new choreography to show them and their studio was always very strict on privacy. Rumi’s voice had been beautiful and her moves had been dogshit. No matter what way it was explained to her she couldn't get her head around it. She'd tripped Zoey, she'd stepped on Mira's foot, she didn't say a single word for a solid half hour.
Mira tried to tell herself it was just a rough day. Even Rumi had off days. It felt different though. One or two slip ups was normal but it had been one thing after another. It hadn’t helped of course that Celine hovered around the whole thing like a bad smell. Rumi always went harder on herself when Celiene was there. Holding herself to a level of perfection that simply wasn't possible. Something had happened between them, something had cooled, and Mira was still trying to work out what. Not that Rumi had always spoken kindly about Celiene but it had least been fond sometimes. Now every time they were in the same room it was like the air turned to smog - thick and noxious. And that smog had followed them around all day.
The moment they’d gotten home Mira and Zoey had promptly thrown themselves on the sofa and Rumi had disappeared. Not unusual. Worrying, but not unusual; old habits died hard. Settling had been impossible. Zoey was still sprawled where she’d landed, she’d put something loud and bright and chaotic on the TV and had promptly ignored it in favour of her phone and the noise was irritating so Mira had turned it off. Zoey hadn’t even looked up. Outside the city shone yellow with nighttime lights. People moving and going about their lives so far away they might as well be on a different planet.
“You think she’s alright?”
“Hmm?”
“Rumi.”
“Oh yeah.” Zoey said absently. “She’s probably tired. I know I am.”
“She was watching that interview in the car on the way home.”
“I didn’t notice.” Then, with a little more urgency, “Are you worried?”
“Did she seem off to you today?”
“A bit but nothing weird. Today was a lot.”
“I’m going to go make sure.”
“Come get me if you need me.”
*
Mira didn’t need to guess where to look. Their personal gym was large and specialised, Celiene had seen to that. Along with the usual kit; treadmills, weights, and the like, there were other useful things. Training dummies. Targets. A whole rig of bars and ramps they used to practice running across rooftops. More and more often, as the comeback tour ground on, Rumi could be found in a gym of some sort no matter where they were. Even on good days. Just one more thing to add to the list of worries.
“Five. Six. Seven.”
“Hey, Rums, you in here?”
“Eight. Nine. Ten.”
“Rumi?”
Mira turned the corner and saw her. Back to the door she faced off against one of the dummies - the heavy one Zoey had doodled on years ago. The face was faded now but it was still clear enough it was a demon. Rumi didn't turn around. Didn't acknowledge her. Just carried on striking with her fists hard enough to make it move. It took three guys to carry that thing in. She wore only a sports bra and shorts and the patterns that snaked across her back and down her arms were a deep and angry purple. Not great.
“One. Two. Three.” She began again without a break. Jab. Hook. Cross.
Her rhythm didn’t falter as Mira lent on the doorframe and watched. When had she last eaten? The water bottle lying off to the side looked half empty at least - Rumi was sweating hard despite how little she wore and how cool the gym was. Her patterns were solid and opaque all the way to her hands, her face pale, breathing heavy. Fully focused on her hits. Beautiful form, as always. No hand protection, as always. She loosened up her grip for a takedown and Mira saw why; Rumi's claws were out. Thick and long and purple so dark they were black on the tips. She left marks on the dummy's neck through the heavy leather.
“What do you want?”
“To check on you.”
“I'm fine.” She curled her claws into loose fists again. There were nicks on her wrists where they’d caught the delicate skin.
“Sure.” Mira didn't move. “Are we going to talk about it?”
“No.” Rumi threw another few punches, stance tight. The dummy moved more and she got through to the stuffing. “Today was a mess.”
Our faults and flaws should never be seen.
“Are those your thoughts or hers?”
“Go away.”
“No.” It wasn't just Rumi who could be stubborn. “Not until you take a break at least.”
Rumi turned on her heel, stepped over to her bottle, and took a short drink. Mechanical. She’d been down there an hour at least. And it wasn’t like she went easy when she worked out - she had enough stamina to outdo even Zoey.
“There. Happy?”
It was worse than Mira thought - the patterns were all over her face, clutching like tendrils or hands. Deep dark purple. One eye had lightened and flashed a threatening yellow. Her braid had come loose - flyaways everywhere. It was not the same polished girl from earlier
“That's better.” Mira kept her voice carefully level. One of them had to be calm and it always had to be her.
“Great.”
“What if-”
“Stop telling me what to do.” Rumi’s voice reverberated in her chest. She stepped forward. Shoulders tense, claws clenched. “I'm so sick of being told what to do today. I can look after myself.”
“Really?” Mira said. She was still leaning on the doorframe as if what they were doing could pass for casual conversation. “Look at you. You're exhausted and this is stupid.”
Rumi turned and slashed the dummy so fast Mira almost missed it. “I’m fine.”
“You keep saying that and I keep not believing you.”
“Fuck you.”
Was that an option? It could calm her down. Probably not though.
“Want to spar?”
At the very least she could keep an eye on her. Make sure she didn't push too hard and completely exhaust herself. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Like this? Seriously?” She held up her claws. “I could hurt you.”
“You don't scare me, Rums.”
Mira shrugged off her jacket and kicked off her shoes. She was dressed for dancing at least - sparring wasn't too different.
“I should.” Rumi turned and fell into stance, pushing loose hair out of her face. “I could tear you up.”
Something just a little more animal about her, something brutal, honed. Maybe it was just how much skin she was showing. More likely it was the mouth full of sharp looking teeth she bore like it might send Mira running. It was having quite the opposite effect.
“You won't be the first to try.”
Rumi cocked her head to one side. There was just the smallest hint of a smile amongst the frown. It might just work.
Mira launched first. Always in the vanguard there was too much training telling her to just go and not wait for orders. Rumi sidestepped easily. Any other time Mira would have gotten a blade straight through the belly but lucky they weren't doing that kind of fighting. Instead she got a palm heel straight to her lower back, sending her stumbling.
Rumi was quicker than usual.
Mira recovered and sized her up. If it was a demon she would -
Rumi took the advantage. Three steps forward and Mira took two punches to the stomach and one in the throat before she could blink. Winded, she took a step back and just about managed to block the next hit; Rumi relied too heavily on the demons they fought having such poor balance. That lovely little move sent them to the ground nine times out of ten they were so top heavy but Mira didn't quite have that problem.
She answered with a kick. If they were going to do this then they were going to do it properly. It caught Rumi in the side hard enough to make her huff in pain. And suddenly it was boxing. Mira ducked and wove around the furious punches and slashes, quick enough not to be caught, not quite quick enough to land enough blows back. She swept Rumi's legs and knocked her to the mats but she scrambled to her feet before Mira could pin her - up onto the bars as able and nimble as any demon. Fine. Sure. Mira was good at this. She followed; forcing tired muscles to work. Rumi bounced and flowed around silently like she always did. Smooth and easy. Mira in hot pursuit. When she reached the top Rumi stood tall; the lights behind her so she was in silhouette, one eye and her patterns shining. Mira hesitated. Because Rumi looked good, really good.
That was her mistake really. Never fucking hesitate. Rumi leapt from the top platform and Mira found herself being taken to the mats, hard. All the air knocked out of her. Rumi had her knees either side of Mira’s ribs, claws wrapped just lightly around her neck. The ends of them pricked against her skin, sharp as thorns. Her patterns beat a steady purple and pink.
“I could rip out your throat.” Rumi said.
The grip tightened just a little and Mira's breath became shallower, eyes half-lidded. Zoey was so right her arms were insane.
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
Rumi looked confused for just a second before Mira bucked her hips, meaning to disrupt the chokehold. All it got her was Rumi tipping forward and an eyeful straight down her sports bra, her face against Mira’s neck in a way that gave her goosebumps. Not the worst outcome but not ideal if she was going to win and wrestle this idiot into resting. Rumi recovered, narrowed her eyes and tightened her grip.
Maybe it was a threat.
Mira slammed her fists into Rumi’s elbows, breaking the hold. Two could play at that. She swung her legs around and caught her in a lock so tight it had to be painful.
“Are you done playing monster?” Mira said, deepening her voice just a touch. That always got her going.
Rumi struggled. She was stronger than usual too. Mira held firm - tightening her back and pulling the elbow between her knees taught; ignoring for the moment the fact she’d just put Rumi’s head right between her thighs.
“Are you done?” Enunciating each word clearly.
“Playing monster?"
Her voice reverberated in her chest and her patterns lit up with each word a furious pink. The lock failed when she thrashed and Rumi was up again. Standing over her like that it occurred to Mira for the first time to be afraid - she really could rip out her throat. But she wouldn’t. It was still Rumi. A pissed off Rumi, sure, but at least she was getting the anger out instead of leaving it festering in the dark. That was a good thing, right? It had to be a good thing.
“Look at me,” Rumi said. It was useless because all Mira could do was look. At her arms. At her abs. At the thick claws sharp enough to make her bleed. “If you saw me on the street you'd kill me.”
Rumi wasn't wrong but she'd never ever admit that - it was a demon, or close enough to one, that her fingers wanted to reach for her weapon. And getting more demonic by the second. Her tongue flicked out and Mira forgot how to breathe. Long and thick and dark. Holy shit. The purple on her arms had grown all the way to her biceps.
“This is what I am.” Rumi was shouting now. “And you think it’s a game?”
Oh she’d fucked up, bad.
Mira struggled to her feet. Everything hurt from her tired muscles to her aching heart. They faced each other across the mats in silence. The air practically crackled with something unsaid. She tried to summon a coherent thought as Rumi just stared at her with those mismatched demon eyes. Zoey would know. She’d know exactly what to say to break the tension
Rumi continued. “I didn’t want you here, I didn’t want you to see me like this.”
The words cut deep. She had no idea, no idea at all, how much it hurt to hear her talk that way, she couldn’t. Because Mira needed Rumi around like she needed air to breathe. No matter how angry or difficult or wrong she thought she was. Rumi glanced at the door. She was going to run, she always ran when she was upset; somewhere safe and private and not here. She didn't feel like she could be herself even in her own home. Something had to be done - and fast.
Mira took a risk. Not even a calculated risk, a stupid fucking risk. Two steps forwards and and before Rumi could stop her she had her face between her hands and was kissing her like that could fix anything. Like it could fix everything.
Rumi stood like marble, frozen in place, hands still held in front in loose fists between them. She relaxed after a moment. Started kissing back. For a heartbeat her claws were on Mira’s shoulders before she pulled away. As if she remembered they were sharp and could cut.
“What was that?” A step back. A step towards the door.
It had to have worked. There was nothing else she could do and the words weren’t coming. Mira’s mouth was drier than it had ever been because if Rumi ran it would break something so tiny and fragile inside her that she couldn’t even think about it for fear it might flit away.
“I was just trying to help; I'm sorry.”
Rumi's expression under the tendrils of patterns was hard to read. They were stained so dark the colours were unreadable too. Mira held her breath as the beat lengthened into a pause. The air in the room was thick enough to choke on.
Mira continued, throat dry and her fingertips sparking with adrenaline.
“All of you.” It came out a whisper. Words too big and heavy for the brittle space between them. “I love all of you.”
“You love me?”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, was that the first time she said it out loud? It can’t have been the first time she’d said it out loud.
“Of course I do.” Mira stood still, as if moving would break the moment and it’d all fall apart. Rumi was a breath away and still looking at the door. “No matter what.”
“Even like this?”
“No matter what.” Mira said again, firmly. More firmly than she felt. Her insides were soft, porous, and everything was tinged with that manic edge of being awake and alert for too long.
Rumi's face softened, her patterns fading in their intensity. That tiny fluttering thing in her chest bloomed just a little.
“Do you mean that?”
“Yes.” The word came out without thought to back it up. Lucky it was true.
“Even though I hurt you?”
Mira touched her neck where there had to be marks. “Jokes on you I’m in to that shit.”
The banter died on her tongue as Rumi frowned. Too many mistakes. Better to just go so there wouldn’t be any more. “Look, I'll leave you alone. I am sorry.”
When she turned a claw caught her wrist. They were sharp against her skin.
“No, stay.” Her voice was layered with something Mira didn’t recognise, something heavy. “You did make me feel better I was just - I don’t know, scared? Worried, or something, that you’d -”
The sentence trailed off as Rumi took a deep breath. Mira could only assume her face was saying something her mouth couldn’t. How many times? How many times did she have to tell this idiot that she was gorgeous and loved and sweet no matter what? Apparently a few more because she didn’t believe it. Well, there was something she’d have to do every day. Starting with actually telling her out loud in words that she was loved because wasn’t that a stupid thing not to have said.
“Wait-” Rumi narrowed her eyes. “Are you actually turned on right now?”
Mira blinked.
“What?”
“You smell different.” Rumi tilted her head to the side. She could smell that?
“I mean, not right this second, but yeah a bit. I like your claws.” Mira could feel the blush starting at her collarbones and working its way steadily upwards. Her heartbeat decided to thump in her ears and those sparks of adrenaline got a voltage upgrade. ‘I like your claws’ - seriously? Smooth as boulders. Maybe she should just never speak again.
Rumi tightened her grip on Mira’s arm and watched her face intently. Or, watched until Mira closed her eyes against the blush because if Rumi could smell differences like a fucking dog then she’d certainly have something new now. When she opened them again Rumi was showing all of her teeth in something that was more snarl than smile.
“I can tell.” Rumi stepped in close like the space belonged to her without letting go of Mira’s wrist. So close that Mira took a step back without thinking and her back hit the wall. “Do you want to see how much of a monster I can be?”
What was happening? What the clean fuck was happening? Not that she wanted it to stop, absolutely not. Something was definitely up with Rumi.
“Yeah.” Mira said quietly.
Rumi forced her wrist against the wall at her hip. Pinned, Mira swallowed thickly. Rumi’s fangs were at her neck and grazing against her skin - light enough to let her know she was there without doing any real damage.
“I can hear your pulse.” Rumi said into the hollow between her shoulder and neck. “It’s skipping.”
It was doing a hell of a lot more than that. Banging against her eardrums like it wanted to burst them because Rumi’s whole body was pressed up against her and the patterns were so warm where they brushed against her stomach - pink and purple and black and gold. The claw at her wrist tightened. Not that Mira was doing much struggling. She’d expected something from that kiss, maybe a little flirting, not for Rumi to be like this. There was a hunger to her. A need. Something deep and raw and primal. Best she’d hoped for was to get her to take a shower and go to sleep.
Her other wrist was caught and pinned too. Fuck. Okay, fuck. There was nothing in the playbook about how to respond to that because it was Rumi and Rumi was damn near a pillow princess at the best of times and this didn’t happen. Not outside of fantasies. And she was stronger. There was really no way out.
“Oh. It just got faster.” Rumi said. Light. Like they were talking about what to have for breakfast.
And then she bit down. Hard. Mira felt the skin break, the spotting of blood, the needle sharp fangs in her neck. And it was wrong to want more but, fuck, did she want it. Give her teeth and claws and frustration and fury she’d take it all and ask for more. If this was her being monstrous then Mira was along for the ride.
Rumi chuckled darkly and bit down again. Mira didn’t manage to catch the soft gasp that came out of her - she was mostly concentrating on staying upright on shaky knees. There would be marks where people could see. They had a full day of press the next day and there would be questions. The rational part of her brain was screaming at her; this was ridiculous she couldn’t just walk about like a well-used chew toy. But her body wasn’t listening. Traitor that it was it pulled Rumi closer - begging without words. Betraying her. Mira’s back arched and something turned to liquid in her brain because Rumi had just pressed her knee between her legs and nothing else mattered.
Their lips met with a fire she’d never felt before. Something close to anger. Her mouth tasted like blood as Mira ran her tongue over the fangs that had been buried in her neck; they were dangerously sharp. Rumi kissed like she was taking something back, like she was reclaiming something lost. Knee still between Mira’s she pressed them against the wall, hard. Everything was gold and purple and stupidly hot. Mira’s hands weren’t released and when she struggled Rumi snarled and pressed against her harder. Mira ground against it. The claws released and she had her arms thrown around Rumi’s neck before she could think - closer, more.
Mira found herself being lifted. She wrapped her legs around Rumi’s waist as the claws bit into the soft skin on the backs of her thighs. And Rumi was kissing like she wanted to devour her whole and hell yes that was hot. Rumi took a couple of steps back, Mira’s weight proving no problem, and lowered them both to the mats. In front of one of the mirrors. Not that Mira was looking because Rumi was kneeling between her thighs and the view was exquisite - arms stained dark purple to the shoulder, teeth sharp, patterns beating a steady pulse of red and gold and black. Her claws climbed up Mira’s ribcage, under her shirt, as her teeth bit down on her nipple over the clothes like she couldn’t wait any longer. She struggled with the the edge of her shirt before smiling and simply ripping it off. Holy shit. Mira tried to stifle a groan but it didn’t work.
Mira felt her chest heave as Rumi didn’t even try with her leggings, she just ran a talon up the seam until they ripped, leaving a red mark in her wake. She pulled the tattered clothes off her with an urgency, a want, she never usually had. Mira felt herself slipping. Not that there was much holding her together to begin with. Rumi’s patterns pulsed at the ends with gold as she looked at Mira laying there, nothing on but a smile and her underwear. Then her underwear was ripped off too without even a question.
Claws on either side of her head caged her to the mats as Rumi mounted her hips. No escape.
Mira slipped into that pool of not thinking. It had been a while but her brain remembered how to just shut down just fine. It was Rumi. It was still Rumi. And if this is what it took to get her to relax then so be it. Her patterns burned hot to the touch and the weight of her pressing them into the mats was gorgeous. Rumi didn’t take her time. Didn’t go slow. They were both too far gone for that. She sunk her teeth into Mira’s nipple and she gasped. She dug her claws in to the mats and ripped up pieces of it. She leaned back with that long tongue flicking the edges of her teeth as if reminding them both just exactly how sharp they were - rolling her hips as she did it, dragging herself against Mira in a way that made her patterns light up. Mira, hands on her waist, tried pulling her, tried getting her to go where she wanted without words because her voice would be all wrong. And Rumi growled.
Mira felt it all the way to her knees.
And then promptly stopped feeling anything at all because Rumi moved back so fast it was like teleporting and there were claws opening her legs and a demon tongue against her and she’d left the planet. Arcs of lightning up and down her spine because it was longer, thicker, and Rumi had to make up for the loss of her fingers. Something unnamable curled around Mira like protection, like surrendering, as she floated in the atmosphere watching herself get royally fucked. This didn’t happen. Not in real life. Things like this didn’t happen. Rumi’s tongue slid inside her like it belonged there. The noises were obscene, slick and wet. Mira couldn’t think anymore. She didn’t have to. Wooden limbs and her hands in Rumi’s hair, tugging on her braid, with her hot breath against her cunt nothing else mattered. Nothing else in the world.
Of course Rumi had to bring her crashing back to earth with a handful of words spoken softly against her hip.
“I love you too.”
And suddenly Mira was back in her body. Every inch of pleasure hers again and shit. Shit that was too much. Mira's stomach lurched into her throat as Rumi pressed her tongue so deep into her cunt that her nose brushed her clit and she came hard and fast right into Rumi’s mouth. She lapped it up without a second's hesitation and kept going. She kept fucking going. Mira groaned against the overstimulation, her hands threaded through Rumi’s hair to keep her exactly where she was.
A noise broke through the confusion. Not that Rumi was allowing the moment to sit, her mouth still pressed against Mira so close and tight it was almost painful. Footsteps. In the hall. It could only be one person. Rumi’s mismatched eyes flickered to the mirror as she grinned.
“You guys have been down here for ages.” Zoey’s voice. “What’s going -”
Zoey
“-on.”
Holy fuck.
She’d died. She’d died and gone to heaven. It couldn’t be real. It could not be real. A naked Mira pinned to the ground and being eaten out by a beast wearing Rumi’s face? She’d had dreams less filthy than this. There were thick marks in the mat where claws had caught, tattered clothes lay off to the side while Rumi was still fully dressed. Although dressed was a strong word she was basically in her underwear, those shorts were short enough to feel illegal. Mira’s eyes were wide and she had an expression Zoey had never seen on her before - something open and vulnerable and wrecked.
Rumi didn’t stop. Soft and gentle Rumi looked dangerous. Like something that wore bright colours and hid poison, something that if you even touched it you’d be gone. Her patterns were dark and opaque - a mix between purple and gold and black. And Zoey very much wanted to touch.
“Without me?”
Mira reached out. Clutching at the air between them like she could pull Zoey in with want alone.
Rumi broke away and looked up at her in the mirror, all coiled energy, fangs hanging over her lip, breathing heavy - one golden eye making her look uncanny. There was something about the way she held herself; barely contained, a dam about to break. Like one wrong move and she’d run off into the night and never be seen again.
“Want company?” Zoey tried. That usually worked.
A single nod.
Hell yes. Tired or not this was not something she was going to miss and she ran, actually ran, over to them before skidding onto her knees. Nailed it. And feral Rumi? Feral Rumi who was actually going to let them fuck her? If she woke up on the sofa halfway through this she was going to be so mad. Mira clutched at Rumi’s braid like it was a lifeline, tugging in the way she liked - and it was the right move. Rumi ducked her head back down but poor Mira wasn’t getting all of what she wanted by the way she clamped her eyes shut and squirmed. Especially when Rumi gripped the soft skin of Mira’s thighs between her claws leaving dark marks behind and -
Her fucking tongue was different too. Mira’s back bowed as Rumi buried her face against her, hitting a sweet spot, the claws biting hard enough to look painful. Mira, stoic, steady Mira, let out an honest to god whimper and all Zoey was doing was watching with her mouth open. Mira was into some heavy shit, sure, but Rumi? Some of those bites were bleeding. If her claws were sharp enough to rip up the mats then Mira was lucky not to have more than a few scratches. What an on brand way to go though - killed trying to get laid.
Mira had lost it. She groaned loudly, nails raking at Rumi’s back, pulling at her hair. Anything, anything to get what she wanted. Zoey had never seen her like this. What had she fucking missed? Rumi scratched several more marks into her thighs. Okay maybe watching wasn’t so bad.
“Zoey. Zoey, too.” Mira's voice was breathy and whining.
Like a counterweight Rumi's rumbled in her chest, low and deep, as she answered. “You’ll take what you’re given.”
Damn. Okay that was hot. Mira was gripping her hair so hard her knuckles had gone white.
“Get it girl.” Zoey whispered.
A stupid fucking thing to say. Lucky it didn’t appear that either of them noticed because Rumi had put that gorgeous demon tongue to work again and Mira was losing her sweet mind. One yellow eye observed her over Mira’s thigh and Zoey had never felt so seen. Observed. And not necessarily in a bad way.
So that’s how it was going then?
Zoey crawled forward. Mira lay there like she’d been stunned with wide eyes and blown pupils and little strands of hair stuck to her damp face. Up close she got to see exactly how Rumi’s tongue worked - sliding between Mira’s folds, against her clit, then pushing in so deep it made Mira’s back arch deliciously. Zoey lay her body all along her, thigh hitched over hers. There was something so appetising about being clothed while Mira was naked, she could see why Rumi liked it.
“Miss me?”
Mira turned and reached out and Zoey found herself dragged into a kiss.
“God, yes.” Hazy. Dozy. It wasn’t often Mira allowed herself to sink this deep and Zoey took a breath because the urge to go further was so strong. She could take more, right? She could definitely take more.
Zoey wrapped one hand around Mira’s throat, matching her fingertips to the marks left by Rumi’s claws, and swallowed the gasp that came with it. Rumi’s tongue continued, but slow, as talons raked against Zoey’s thigh. Make the moment last. Just a little light torture - the opportunity was right there.
“Zo, please.”
Begging? Already? They had been down there for a while poor Mira had probably come already. Too bad she wasn’t going to get another one for a while. Zoey moved her grip to her jaw, tilted her chin, and sank two fingers into her mouth. The groan that came with it was a melody. Mira’s tongue rasped as she pressed them deeper.
“Is that what you wanted?”
Mira fucking nodded. Goddamn, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Rumi was calling the shots if this was the result.
Zoey had a wicked idea. She dragged her fingers out with difficulty, teeth catching against them like Mira didn’t want her to leave. Hand under her shorts and she was wetter than she thought. She pressed herself against Mira’s thigh. The lapping tongue stopped and Rumi was watching her with that intense gaze and didn’t that just make everything hotter? Mira groaned and twisted under her, pulling her head down to her chest. Fine. Give the poor thing something. Zoey took a nipple in her mouth and rolled her tongue around it, making it stiffen, sucking, as she slipped two fingers into herself and rocked against them.
That low growl was back. That soft golden light that meant that she was doing something right, that she was making Rumi happy. Zoey swirled her fingers around her clit, getting lost in what she was doing because it felt so good.
A claw on her thigh bit down, trailing towards her knee leaving bright red marks in its wake. Mira’s hands in her hair and Zoey continued grinding against her like she was nothing more than a toy. The claw moved up again, across her ribs, and she bit down on Mira’s nipple hard enough to elicit an adorable squeak. And then Rumi was gone and the obscene sound of her tongue against Mira’s cunt was back. Mira was shivering under her as Zoey dragged her fingers from herself.
“Open up.” She said, Mira’s mouth was already hanging open just begging to be filled.
Her fingers slipped in and Mira suckled at them greedily. Rumi ramped up the pace. The noises coming from the two of them were downright pornographic. Zoey used her other hand to touch herself. If no one else would do it then she would.
Mira's hips lifted from the mats and Rumi growled. Thunder. Danger.
“Stay still.” Zoey whispered into her ear. Not that Rumi was letting up, her long tongue disappearing in and out in a way that made her stomach tight. “Or who knows what she'll do.”
Mira tried. She really did. But not hard enough.
So Rumi just - stopped. The sly grin as she lifted her head was worth it. Zoey pulled back her fingers and Mira whimpered, left empty and wanting.
“Oh no. Not good enough.” Zoey said, in that sing-song way that would irritate anyone but it particularly annoyed Mira.
“Fuck yourself.”
Mira gasped sharply as Rumi sank her teeth into her thigh. Swift justice.
“Maybe you need some help staying still?” Zoey turned so she was kneeling, grabbed Mira’s wrists in both hands and pulled them over her head. “Maybe I’m just here to hold you down until she’s finished with you.”
Her body shook between them like it was trying to decide which way to lay safety. This was the game - make her bend, make her break. Snap that spine and make her thank them for it.
“How long do you think it’ll be?” She said in Mira’s ear as she struggled. “How long do you want it to be?”
Rumi’s body lit up. She had her forehead on Mira’s stomach. Close enough to be a distraction, not close enough for any kind of release. They were going to wreck her. And it wouldn’t take much longer at all. Not by the sheen of sweat that covered her nose or the way she melted into Zoey’s grip.
There it was. There was the surrender. Not that Rumi let the moment sit raking both claws down her body and making the shuddering worse. Hair a mess, eyes wild - it would be so fun reminding her later just how easily she gave herself to them. Offered herself to be used for their enjoyment, trusted them to make her feel good. Under Zoey’s hands her wrists were kindling, between Rumi’s claws her thighs were soft. And wasn’t that gorgeous? Her body, always moving so well, reacted immediately to every touch - she might be taciturn but there was no hiding that shiver as Rumi worked her way across her stomach, leaving smoky marks behind. Mira sighed as she reached her chest. Rumi’s fangs glinted under the lights just before she sank them into the soft skin just under Mira’s left tit hard enough to draw blood. Not that Mira seemed to notice or care, not by the low groan she let out.
Then Rumi moved fast. Hard. Patience clearly thinning she started eating her out so quick and brutal it was almost cruel. Almost. Because Mira had her bottom lip between her teeth the way she did when she was about to tip over and she thrashed in Zoey’s grip. Rumi sped up, somehow. Mira froze. Her hands gripped Zoey’s arms like she needed something to hold on to as her heels brushed against Rumi’s back. Face flushed and panting Zoey kissed her as Rumi held her on a knife’s edge. And then promptly pushed her over it. Mira moaned right into her mouth as she came.
“Just one? You can do better than that.” Zoey purred in her ear.
“I can’t, I can’t -” Mira replied breathlessly.
“I know you can.”
“I can’t.”
Zoey looked up and Rumi was already doing the same, head tilted, the question clear. Was their toy all used up?
“Fine.” Rumi relented, her gaze still fixed on Zoey. Her patterns still burned out of her skin dark and opaque - body held taught as if she was preparing for a punch. Oh. Oh shit. She relented. When Mira’s wrists were released she covered her face and sank into the mats like something had been scooped out of her, like she was untethered and might float away without someone’s weight holding her down. Shame. Those pink cheeks were so cute. Rumi leaned back on her heels, ran a claw down her braid, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. There was a little blood. Zoey watched her stare at it for a moment. Where she was sitting it would be nothing to pull down her shorts and her underwear. Not that Mira was making that easy lying there looking like some delicious morsel but if she was done then she was done. Rumi’s intense gaze turned to her, one eyebrow raised, and she took a deep breath through her nose. The patterns hadn’t faded - still pulsing purple. Got to do something about that. Zoey leaned forward and Rumi met her halfway - kissing like it was air.
Rumi was more demonic up close. The tendrils that framed her face did nothing to hide how gorgeous she was; that jawline? Zoey was going to run her tongue over it until it bled. She clambered around Mira to get to her, claws lifting at the waist to help until they were tangled together on the mats and Rumi was kneeling over her, and the view was gorgeous. The way her muscles moved under her skin made her dizzy. Even the smell of her, something sharp and animal and citrus, was intoxicating.
Zoey fumbled with the clasp of her bra, desperate to have more skin in front of her.
“No.” Rumi said, voice low in her throat.
“You can’t have another performance like that in you, princess. Let me help.”
“No. I’m done being told what to do today.”
“That's not how this works." Zoey replied, grinning. Rumi might be able to catch Mira in the monster act but she wouldn't crumble so easily.
“It is now.” A deep, delicious, growl.
Claws clamped around her arms and Rumi was using all her, considerable, strength to hold her down. Zoey’s breath caught. It was a demon. It was a demon and it had her in its grip. The claws didn’t loosen. She struggled against them and they didn’t loosen. The air sucked out of the room as she shut her eyes against the teeth and the patterns and the lights and, then, Rumi’s voice. Rumi’s actual voice.
“Zoey?”
“Nope. Nope, nope, nope, hate that-”
The claws released. The weight disappeared. “I hurt you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”
“I'm fine.” Zoey said. It was mostly true. “You didn't. I don't like that. I thought I might but I don't.”
Rumi looked confused, pulled back, shrank into herself. “What?”
“It sounded good in theory. Experiment failed.”
Her expression tightened. “Is that it?”
“Is what it?”
“You’re not scared? Scared of me?”
“Why would I be? It’s only you.”
Of all the stupid, useless, lesbians in the world and they got the hot one that had no idea how hot she was.
Zoey lent in for a kiss and Rumi held back. No. More. She kissed her harder and Rumi reacted the way she always did - pliant, obedient. She might like to think she’s in charge but they all knew what Rumi really was.
“I'm worried I’ll hurt you, take it too far.”
“Mira didn’t seem to mind.”
A small huff of a laugh, a proper one. There she was. “Mira wouldn’t leave me alone. It was - distracting at least.”
“Then let me distract you. And we’ll stop each other when it’s too much.” Zoey pressed her lips to Rumi’s neck.
“I can do that?”
“You don’t?!”
Well that was terrifying. Rumi looked away under the scrutiny. Oh yeah. Zero experience. Dumb not to actually talk about this out loud in words considering how oblivious Rumi was to any kind of hint. Or maybe not oblivious, just naive. A tiny bit dim. The hot ones always were just a tiny bit dim.
“I just kind of go with what you two want.”
Zoey cupped her face in her hands.
“That's scary. Please tell me you know what a safeword is.”
“I'm not an idiot.”
“You literally just asked me if you were allowed to stop if it was too much like you need permission.”
“I don't want to upset you. Not when you're in the moment.”
“Are you sure you're not an idiot?” Zoey half-squeezed, half-shook Rumi's face. She wiggled out of the grip. “I get this is newish but I need you to talk to us. Stop, slower, yes, maybe, no, all those wonderful words you have to use them. Tell me what you like, tell me what you don't like, it's not a test. No one is going to be mad at you.”
“Tell you what I like?"
“That's what you took from that?”
“I heard you.” Rumi waved it off in a way that made Zoey think they might need to have this conversation several more times. “There is something I was thinking of.”
“You can try whatever you want.” Zoey paused, considered, “Within reason"
Zoey tried and failed to keep the excitement from her voice because she was still dripping and who knew what this version of Rumi would come up with.
“I want a massage.”
This girl was going to kill her. All that to ask for a fucking massage? Zoey suppressed a smile.
“With a happy ending I assume?”
“If you like.”
“Rumi. What would you like?”
The words tumbled from her so fast it was hard to consolidate them with the demon mouth that was saying them.
“I think just a normal massage. I’m so sore. And these,” she gestured along her patterns, “they sort of constrict sometimes. They’re sensitive and you can be rough.”
Oh.
Ooooh poor Rumi needed looked after not a bunch of dumb games. Okay. She could do that. That was easy. Not simple to turn off the fire in her stomach but that didn’t matter. Zoey knew all too well what it felt like to be too much and there was no way she would let Rumi feel the same.
“I can be gentle too. Come on, a massage will be better in bed.”
Zoey touched her shoulder and it came with a hiss. Zoey took a breath. Softer. Too much. Rumi was wound so tight something was going to break. And after that? They both needed a breather even if it was hard to stop. She looked to Mira.
“We should take her with us. I think you broke her.”
Mira hummed a response with her eyes still closed. The tips of her ears were still red and little strands of pink hair clung to the damp parts of her face. Rumi traced a talon lightly over some of the marks she’d left. So that’s what was bothering her.
“Shit, Mir. Are you okay? That was a lot and I -” Rumi spoke too fast. More normally. “I got carried away.”
Mira didn’t even bother to open her eyes. “Serves me right.”
She reached out and was clinging to Rumi’s arm, face covered with her elbow like she was embarrassed that she didn’t want to be alone. Cutie.
“What do I do?” Rumi said quietly. “She’s not herself.”
“No shit, you just fucked her brains out.”
“I’m serious.” Rumi’s pupils had pinpointed. Oh, she was actually worried. “I don’t know what to do now.”
Zoey put a hand on her arm. “Now we look after her.”
“How?”
“Rumi, come on, use your head.” Zoey tapped her forehead with a finger. Idiot.
“Yeah. Of course. Just like when we have a bad fight.”
“Exactly.”
Rumi crouched down and lifted Mira like she weighed nothing, cradling her against her almost bare chest. Zoey blinked because that was never not adorable. Mira snuggled in as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Rumi stood.
“Will you help me?”
*
Into the shower where two sets of hands gently cleaned Mira. Plasters on her cuts, calm and careful. Zoey dressed them both gently in soft, warm, clothes and Rumi seemed less sharp around the edges as she did it. All the bullshit stripped away - she could look after her girls whatever way they would let her. Rumi passed Mira’s room and carried her into hers, Zoey following. It was still a little bit of a marvel, they’d never really been allowed in before. It was all soft earth colours - greens and beiges. Calming. Everything orderly and neat because of course it was. The minimalism was soothing though, very Rumi.
They lay her down in bed and Mira reached out with her eyes closed, finding Zoey’s lap and leaning on it immediately. Zoey stroked her hair and murmured soft nonsense as Rumi watched intensely - like it was an exam she was studying for. A beat passed. Then two. Mira’s breathing was soft and regular, sleep wasn’t far off for her. Zoey traced the bite marks covered by plasters. The moment where marks like that might be left on her seemed to have passed. Shame.
“They’re bad, right?”
Zoey shrugged. “She’s had worse.”
“Yeah, from actually fighting.”
“Is that what she said?”
“Fuck you.” Came a deep voice from her lap.
“Yeah, yeah.” Zoey continued stroking her hair. “Go to sleep.”
Mira mumbled something too low to hear and burrowed into Zoey’s lap. Rumi was fiddling with the end of her braid, sitting cross legged on her other side, still a little too bright-eyed. No rest for the wicked.
Zoey touched her thumb to Rumi’s chin. “You’re a little injured yourself.”
“Oh. That’s my blood.”
“You don't have to hide. Let me see.”
“It’s nothing.”
“You need a plaster.”
“On my lip?”
“Good point.”
Rumi shifted beside her as Zoey planted a kiss on the small cut, tasting iron and the moisturiser she used at night.
“There. All better.”
Zoey let her hand fall in a caress as Rumi's fangs caught her lip between them. It flowed down Rumi’s arm admiring for just a moment the muscle under the skin. The patters burned hotter than she’d ever felt. They constricted? It had to really hurt for Rumi to bring it up - she’d watched that girl dance on a sprained ankle for an hour before telling anyone.
“Gently. Please.” Rumi said in a whisper.
“Of course, princess.”
Their foreheads touching, Zoey took a claw in one of her hands and ran her thumb over the tip of it. Did they hurt too?
“Shit, they’re sharp.”
Rumi just looked down at her with something uncomfortably close to fear in her mismatched eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Zoey pressed her lips to each of them in turn. They were gorgeous up close. Nebula purple that deepened on the ends to a dark black - even her palms were stained. She wanted to draw stars on them. “You’re perfect.”
A choking noise. Zoey’s head snapped up just in time to see Rumi’s expression crack, dissolve, and the tears spill over. Her hand was snatched from Zoey’s as she covered her face - suppressed the sobs so there was nothing but silence that filled the room like smoke. It was like something had come loose. Like the dam had broken.
“Oh, Rumi. It’s okay.” Zoey tried to pull her into a hug and it took a moment. Rumi’s shoulders were iron tense. And then she crumbled and sank into her arms like she’d been waiting to do it all day - face against her collarbone, hiding from the world.
Rumi’s sobs deepened into her chest and her body wracked with them until Zoey’s shirt was wet through. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter it would dry and she would sit there until the morning if it would help even a small amount. Zoey smoothed the flyaways back into her braid, planted a kiss on her head, held her close. It was all she could do. It didn’t feel like enough but it was all she could do.
“Let it out. Let it all out.”
Rumi’s breaths were short, sharp, staccato. There was a way she shrank when she was upset - a black hole of misery that sucked everything else in. At least it wasn’t running. At least she was here with them. A small mercy.
It was hard not to think of the times Rumi had disappeared on them. Both literally and figuratively. Phone left on the table, no keys, no warning, she'd just be gone for anywhere from minutes to hours - where she went or what she did was a mystery but it was terrifying every time. Mira, casual, saying she just needed space and privacy - that she should be allowed both whenever she wanted (although her phone was always on loud and in sight.) Zoey’s mind always went straight for the worst cases - she’d been hit by a car, she'd been mugged, she'd gone up to some rooftop and fallen off. It was always fallen. The alternative sent her spiralling. And then Rumi would appear again. Apologise mechanically. Fix whatever appointment or arrangement or meeting she'd broken and that was it.
Of the two it was the worst. But when Rumi's eyes glazed over, when she disappeared inside herself? That was no fun either. The closed doors, the heavy silence, the automatic and rehearsed ‘I'm fine, you guys go ahead.’ Nothing broke through it. Not careful jokes or snacks and certainly not talking. She could get lost like that for days.
Zoey held her tight. They had to be thankful for small mercies.
Slowly, slowly, the sobs lessened. When Rumi lifted her head she scrubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands as if that could hide the evidence. Like if no one saw the tears then they didn’t happen.
“That was stupid. Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologise.” Zoey tilted her chin up to make the point hit properly. The look she got back was enough to make her chest hurt. “Not here. Not to me.”
Rumi smiled, a watery, wavy thing, as tears welled again. “It’s just been a really bad day.”
“Yeah?”
“And you’ve both been so nice about it.” A few spilled over. “Even when I let myself get out of control.”
“You don’t have to earn kindness.”
That was the problem though. The problem with growing up with so many eyes on you - with someone raising you to push through every discomfort, to hide every issue, to be flawless. When you’d spent most of your life being loved by a sea of fans it started to feel like if you weren’t perfect, weren’t useful, then it’d all disappear. To Rumi there was nothing unconditional in life. Not even simple, basic, affection. It was enough to break Zoey’s heart.
“You’re going to make me cry again.” Rumi said.
Zoey held out her arms. The damp patch on her pyjama top stuck to her collarbones. “I’m not going anywhere. Your own personal human tissue, ready and waiting.”
It got a breathy giggle. Music. Rumi reached into her bedside drawer and pulled out a pack of actual tissues without looking. No need to think too hard why they were there. Or how Rumi knew how to find them so quickly. Zoey’s heart was holding together by a thread as it was.
A sniffle as Rumi wiped her nose and made it red, then scrubbed her eyes. Fairly deftly with both hands still sharp as razors. Though she winced when she raised her arms.
“Are you still sore?”
“It’s like my skin is in a vice.”
“What about that massage? I want to help you feel better.”
Something practical. Something useful. A thing Rumi could actually ask for next time if she did a good enough job.
“Yeah. Okay.”
Rumi nodded and lay face down on the bed beside where Mira was softly snoring. Zoey admired them both for a moment. It took guts to be that vulnerable. It took real, honest to god, trust. Mira got the anger out - carried it, withstood it; didn’t flinch. Rumi let herself be truthful, authentic, even when she thought the result would be fear or disgust. And Zoey? Well her job was to pick up the pieces and hold them close.
She moved Mira’s head from her lap, ignoring the sleepy clutches - Rumi needed her.
“Stop me any time you like. Over or under your shirt?”
“Over.”
“Got it.”
Zoey kneeled beside her and pressed her fingertips into Rumi’s shoulders. There was no exaggeration they were hard as steel. From all the times she’d sketched them she had a fairly good idea of the locations of the patterns - a large one across there, a series of little ones like spiderwebs over here. She varied the pressure when she thought she was on them but Rumi hissed through her teeth anyway.
Zoey eased off. The puzzle was to get the muscles to relax by only touching skin. She moved to Rumi’s shoulder blades and back. Slow. Deliberate. Holding back because, honestly, she was still pretty worked up from what she’d seen earlier. But that wasn’t what Rumi wanted or needed right that moment and holy hell she’d spent more than enough time waiting for the particular right to touch at all to fuck it up now.
She pressed her fingers and the heels of her palms into the spaces between the patterns. Feral or not Rumi still reacted the way she always did - leaning in, sinking, maybe falling? And it worked, the muscles under her hands began to soften. The purple she could see had lightened just a little to pink. Okay. Okay that was better.
“You’re allowed to want things.” Zoey said. “Especially things as easy as this.”
“Mmmhm.”
“No, I’m serious. I’ll do this all night every night if you let me.”
Rumi mumbled something into the pillow and Zoey planted a kiss to the back of her neck.
The muscles continued to soften. Rumi continued to soften. The violet that had covered her arms receded like a tide. The bits of pink got lighter and lighter until it was a sunrise and not fury.
“Can you go under my shirt? They don’t hurt anymore.”
“Of course.”
Zoey pushed up the loose gray shirt and marvelled at her handiwork for a second. The light was back - a gentle glow, pale and iridescent. Relaxed. Her beautiful mood ring. So she continued. Slow and calm. If that’s what Rumi wanted that’s what she’d get. The shirt bunched around Rumi’s middle as she tried to reach her shoulders again and Rumi lifted herself into a perfect cobra pose and pulled it over her head before Zoey could think. She lay flat again with her head cradled in her arms.
“What?” Rumi glanced up at her with half a smile, both eyes back to brown.
“You’re gorgeous, that’s all.”
She continued, pressing a little harder now it wouldn’t cause pain. Moving up and down Rumi’s back in something like cartography - every softening muscle was a new revelation. Maybe a new reason to be sought out next time. Because there would be a next time. Another shitty day, another series of mistakes or bad luck, and just maybe she’d ask for this instead of trying to hate herself into something worth loving. Zoey was going to draw every pattern from memory until she could trace them with her eyes shut.
The tension had melted out of her. Rumi shifted and her hand moved from under the pillow. Her hand, not a claw.
They had done that. Zoey felt a small bubble of pride - get the anger out then be gentle. Got it. Mira would be delighted.
She moved upwards one more time and then Zoey lay down beside her so close their foreheads were touching, breath mixing warm and sweet. She felt rather than saw Rumi’s smile. An arm over her waist and Rumi’s lips on hers and everything was soft and right again. Zoey snuggled her head under Rumi’s chin. The steady thud thud thud of her heart was soothing.
“Hey Zo?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you. You know that right?”
“I love you too Rumi.”