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Mira is nervous.
It’s ridiculous, really. She’s far from inexperienced - she’s flirted, been on dates, managed to hold down a girlfriend somewhere in the whirlwind of popstardom and hunting, but this is different.
This is Rumi.
They’ve grown up together and grown with each other, had each other’s backs for years, which should honestly be a comfort because Mira knows rationally that the logistics of tonight don’t truly matter in the long run. Like she’d said back at Sangam Stadium: she’s with Mira. They’re in this together.
And yet, here Mira sits. Alone on the couch, Zoey still in the States for a few days of family and friends time after the LA shows, waiting. She’s in a new suit jacket and pants, oversized and fashionable, and wringing her hands while wondering if the high-neck knit top she has on underneath is too casual, and Rumi’s still upstairs.
Getting ready for their first date.
Mira’s stomach alights in butterflies.
“Get a grip,” she mutters, eyes peeled to the carpet between her loafers. She has nothing to prove, in reality. But it feels like she has everything to prove, the weight of doing this right and treating Rumi the way she deserves standing firm.
Footsteps on the staircase alert her. She doesn’t turn right away, instead getting to her feet and putting her hands in her pockets. When it’s clear Rumi has made her way down, she finally looks over her shoulder.
Oh.
She lingers uncertainly at the last step with her hand still on the bannister. Her dress is dark, long-sleeved and off the shoulder and clinging with soft-looking fabric down to her knees. Mira can’t help tracing the way her waist and hips look - not nipped in or accentuated, but just there. Just her. Sexy and comfortable.
Her hair is down, and her makeup is understated. Mira cannot believe how lucky she is.
“You're so beautiful,” she says simply.
With a bashful expression, Rumi glances down at herself. “Is this okay? I didn’t know if I should choose something fancier, or-”
“It’s perfect.” They catch eyes for a weighted moment. Then Mira huffs and smiles. “I’m so fucking nervous. I don’t know why.”
Her words break Rumi’s tension also; she grins and finally walks closer on bare feet, high heels swinging from one hand. “Me too. It’s just dinner.”
“It’s just dinner,” Mira confirms. She grabs Rumi’s free hand once she’s close enough and on a whim, brings it up to quickly kiss her knuckles.
“You look beautiful too, by the way,” Rumi says, the corner of her mouth pulled up. This close, the shimmering powder at her eyelids is mesmerizing. “Handsome, even.”
Mira likes that. She doesn’t blush.
“Car’s gonna be here soon,” she mutters, ignoring the fond look Rumi gives her.
“Lead the way.”
They’d picked the location together, a high-end Japanese restaurant Mira had initially suggested because she knows Rumi loves sushi but doesn’t often indulge in the expensive stuff. The entire establishment had been rented out for the night for an undisclosed private event, and with Bobby having vetted the few wait and kitchen staff hired, Mira can let herself relax at least on the paparazzi front. They enter through a private garage and take an elevator up just the two of them and no one outside the tight knit group of signed NDAs is the wiser.
The interior of the restaurant is all aged wood and small candles, soft music barely an afterthought, plus a fantastic view. A young woman greets them politely and leads the way to a table for two set up in a private corner. Once they’re seated, she pours glasses of ice water and promises to return shortly with the chef’s menu for the evening.
Subtly, Rumi exhales once she’s gone.
“Worried?” Mira asks.
“Not really. I know Bobby was thorough.” She gives a rueful smile. “It’s just hard to shake the feeling of being watched.”
“I get that.” Mira reaches a hand across the table, rubbing her thumb along Rumi’s fingers when she reaches back. “We’re okay. Trust me?”
Rumi gazes back. “Always.” Slightly more settled, she leans back and takes a sip of water, peering at Mira over the top of her glass. “So. I’ve never done this before. What do we do?”
Mirroring her, Mira sprawls a little in her chair.
“Well,” she starts slowly, “we enjoy the drinks and the food. Talk. Learn about each other.” She gives Rumi an obvious once over. “Enjoy the view.”
Rumi goes shy for a second - a novel look on the reigning international popstar herself - before setting her glass down. “We already know everything about each other,” she reasons.
“Mostly everything.”
She opens her mouth in askance but is interrupted by the quiet return of their server with the set menu for the evening. Rumi approves for the both of them with quiet delight, Mira orders top shelf glasses of sake for them both, and then, alone again, Rumi puts her forearms on the table and peers across at her.
“What do you think you don’t know about me?” she asks. She seems genuinely curious, if not a tad offended. It’s cute.
“For a start, literally anything to do with dating and sex,” Mira says, smiling at the flush taking over Rumi’s perfectly contoured cheeks. “Except that you’re into me, apparently.”
“Apparently,” she snarks back. She narrows her eyes, challenging. “So ask me.”
“We don’t have to get into it right now,” Mira tells her a little more gently. “I’m sure I’ll learn what I need to in due time.”
“I know, but-” She glances to the side. Then back to Mira. “I want to tell you. Ask me.”
“Alright.”
She does have to think for a moment. Their drinks arrive, and she takes a pensive sip, savouring the smooth taste on her tongue.
“Just to confirm what I already know,” she starts, “I’m your first for most things.”
“Pretty much everything.”
“Am I the first person you’d had feelings for?”
Rumi tilts her head, considering. “Technically, no.” Her expression goes a little distant. “There was Jinu. It wasn’t the same, but it was… something.” She shakes off the memories with a sip of her own sake. “I had crushes when I was younger, on idols or actors. Doesn’t everyone?”
“Guys or girls?”
She bites her lip, impish. “Both.”
Mira smiles wider. “Did Celine ever know?”
“Truthfully, I don’t think she cared.” Rumi raises a shoulder. “Relationships were out of the question regardless. What did it matter who I thought was cute?”
“Fair enough,” Mira says soberly. It’s not like her own coming out story had been much better; she’d yelled it out in the middle of a fight with her parents, and it had barely even registered. Just one more way she was a disappointment to them.
Rumi drums her fingers on the tablecloth. “So. I guess I’m bi.”
“You guess?” Mira teases.
“I don’t know,” Rumi replies with a scowl. “I like you, that’s all I care about.”
“That’s all I care about, too.”
“Great.”
“Good.”
After a few seconds of stalemate, they break into chuckles.
“I guess there is one thing I wanted to know,” Mira starts again slowly.
“Mm?”
“Even before I told you… it seemed like you knew already.” She raises her eyes. “How long?”
Thoughtful, Rumi folds her arms.
“It’s hard to know. Before Gwi-Ma, so much of my mind was consumed with the job - both jobs. And the guilt.” She curls a hand around her own bare shoulder. “It might have been earlier. But I wasn’t in a place to realize until afterwards.
She goes quiet for a moment, reminiscent. A small smile takes over her face.
“Regardless of when it started, Zoey’s party is when I knew for sure. I don’t like that we wasted time being upset after, but it was the most you’d touched me outside of choreography in a long while.”
“I mean, I grabbed you pretty hard.”
Rumi rolls her eyes. “I was falling, we’ve been over this. And, I don't know, maybe that was the point.”
“Oh yeah?” Amused, Mira relaxes back into her chair. “You like being grabbed?”
“Maybe.”
“Intriguing.”
She pulls a face, half-heartedly complaining, “Stop making fun of me.”
“I’m not, babe.” Mira leans forwards, needing her to understand. “Really, I’m not. So you don’t have a ton of experience, so what. I’m kind of excited to be around when you’re ready to figure it all out.” She realizes what she’s just said, backpedals: “I mean. If you want.”
Rumi stares at her across the flickering candle.
“I want,” she says quietly.
The moment goes silent and heavy with anticipation. Sake warms Mira's throat, Rumi’s dark eyes reflecting city lights, and Mira parts her lips-
Their first course arrives.
The ride back to their building is charged. They don’t say anything, though Rumi does hold Mira’s hand in the seat between them as she peers out at the glass storefronts and bustling bars passing them by. She seems calm and content when Mira glances over once in a while, and Mira wishes she felt the same. Those damn butterflies are back and dancing up a storm on top of the beautiful meal they’ve just shared. They tapdance under her ribs continuously as the car pulls discretely into the underground garage of the tower, as they stroll at a leisurely pace over to the elevator, and all the way up to the penthouse level.
Rumi leans her head on Mira’s shoulder as they watch the city skyline fall smoothly away together during the ride up.
“This was nice,” she murmurs.
Mira puts her lips at her hairline. “Doesn’t have to be over yet.”
At the main entryway, Rumi reaches the door first and lets herself in, Mira trailing behind. She busies herself by shrugging her suit jacket off and draping it over the nearest free coathook, toeing off her shoes, until she realizes slowly that Rumi hasn’t turned the hallway lights on yet.
Instead, she stands still and watches Mira half a step away, forcing them both close, almost hip to hip when she reaches to push the door closed. Then it’s just them. Face to face in the muted quiet, paused on a precipice.
“Hi,” Rumi says. She sounds a little uncertain, but her gaze is strong.
Mira smiles. “Hey. Are you-?”
The words are stolen right off her lips by Rumi’s. She pushes up on her toes and slings her arms over Mira’s shoulders, kissing her with an intent confidence that sends a hot little shiver down Mira’s back, and she responds easily, hands firm around the slim line of Rumi’s waist and smoothing over the softness of her dress.
Rumi’s a very neat kisser, Mira’s been pleased to find out over the last little while. She moves and nips with careful precision and in perfect rhythm, taking the lead and giving it back like they’re dancing, and Mira’s noticed that as long as she’s given the space to do so at her own speed, Rumi is happy to explore. She’ll graze her teeth along Mira’s lower lip and touch her neck and push her thigh against Mira’s, cataloging all the while which choices get Mira’s engines revving.
She pulls a few out now, angling herself to give a little more pressure, to ever so gently touch her tongue to Mira’s when they next connect. And Mira’s only a woman: she groans soft and low in her throat, one palm slipping dangerously low down Rumi’s spine.
“Wait,” Mira murmurs against agonizingly tempting lips. “Wait, baby, wait, wait-”
Rumi gives her exactly one inch, chest rising and falling. “What’s wrong?” she asks, and, oh, her voice is low, a little husky.
“Nothing,” Mira says, flashing a quick smile to reassure her. “It’s just. We had a plan.”
Rumi blinks as her thoughts come back online.
“Right,” she says, visibly composing herself. “Yes. The plan.”
The final touch on their date plan, intended to fulfill the complete fantasy of a dinner-and-a-movie affair.
“You still want to?” Mira asks - she has everything ready, popcorn and a brand new release of a weird-looking horror film right up Rumi’s alley. She adds, “I want to.” She also adds, more quietly and a little self-conscious, “I want you to have a proper first date.”
With a grin, Rumi knocks their foreheads together. “It’s been pretty damn good so far.” She kisses Mira, quick and sweet. “Let’s do it. I’m gonna change first, I wanna be comfy.”
“Yeah, okay.”
They have to reluctantly part ways for a few minutes. Rumi heads to her room while Mira throws a few blankets across the couch and queues up the movie, tossing a bag of popcorn into the microwave before hopping up to her own bedroom. She sheds the rest of her dinner outfit and opts for an old tour sweater that hangs off one shoulder and a pair of sweatshorts that ride a little too high for polite company, slipping on socks before returning to the couch area.
Rumi’s already there, snuggled up in a cute ball. She wears shorts as well, and a huge well worn t-shirt.
Her hair is down.
Fuck me, Mira thinks because, somehow, this is even sexier than the dress.
Rumi gives her a happy look and reveals the open popcorn bag. “Hope you have more of this. I like it.”
“Yeah, there’s a whole box,” Mira manages. She has to be cooler than this. “Scooch over, you’re hogging the good spot.”
“Come join me, then,” Rumi returns, not moving at all. Her grin grows at Mira’s put upon sigh as she folds down in the cushions, her bare leg right against Rumi’s and her arm naturally raising to rest along the back of the couch behind them.
“Happy?” she asks in mock annoyance.
“Extremely.” Undeterred, Rumi cuddles in close with all her limbs, her head on Mira’s shoulder, and regards the TV screen across from them with interest. “You sure you want to watch this?”
Mira doesn’t really like horror. Jumpscares annoy her, but it makes Rumi happy, so.
“I want to,” she promises. “If it gets too scary, I have you to protect me.”
“Damn straight.”
Cataloging within herself a deep happiness she’s only felt a few times before in her lifetime, Mira tugs a blanket over their tangled legs and starts the movie.
To Rumi’s credit, she makes it halfway.
She appears to love whatever is happening on screen in the whatever tunnel or asylum or laboratory the main characters are fighting for their lives in - Mira’s lost track. She startles at every obvious scare and coos over the grotesque creature thing that shows itself somewhere in the second act, but when there’s a lull in the action as the main male and female characters share a predictably sappy moment, her attention starts to drift.
It starts with a hand on Mira’s knee. She puts it there during a tense moment and doesn’t take it away, instead smoothing her thumb over Mira’s skin idly. A minute later, she turns her head and nuzzles just under Mira’s jawline.
“You smell nice,” she whispers.
“You’re missing it,” Mira whispers back. “They’re gonna kiss.”
“Mm.” She replies with slow lips pressed to Mira’s neck. “Good for them.”
Mira exhales slowly, eyelids lowering as Rumi softly explores the skin under her ear. A patterned arm picks up the empty popcorn bowl that had been balancing on their knees and sets it to one side.
“I picked this movie for you, you know,” she says, barely a complaint.
“And I really like it,” Rumi replies, pulling back just enough to regard her with bright eyes. “But I’m okay if we finish it tomorrow.”
Mira reaches out with the remote to pause the movie.
“Tomorrow it is, princess.”
And they surge together like magnets. She hauls Rumi close with a hand hooked under her knee and slots their mouth together in a hungry kiss, groaning with satisfaction and loving the slip of soft hair through her fingers. Rumi sucks in a sharp breath as she responds. She leans her entire weight into Mira and opens her mouth, answering a greeting flick of Mira’s tongue with her own, sucking lightly on Mira’s lips before diving back in.
It’s already more than Mira had dared to expect for tonight. She'd happily stay right here and make out on this couch for as long as Rumi wanted. Then Rumi suddenly pushes up and settles her weight across Mira’s thighs, and Mira thinks she might pass out.
“Ru,” she manages weakly between lush kisses laid across her mouth, not missing the spark in Rumi’s eyes at the petname. “Not that I’m not loving this, but-”
Rumi’s hands have started wandering. Ghosting over Mira’s shoulders, neck, back to scritch through her hair and down again, past her ribs, exploring her waist.
“But what?” Rumi asks innocently against her cheek.
“But we don’t have to rush,” Mira gets out. She should have known this would happen. Should have known Rumi would mow down her defenses.
Rumi sits back slightly.
“It doesn’t feel like rushing,” she admits, dropping her hands to fiddle with the drawstrings to Mira’s shorts idly. “It feels good. I feel safe.”
Mira’s going to implode.
“You can’t just say shit like that,” she breathes, brushing knuckles down the pink blush dusting Rumi’s cheek.
“It’s the truth.” She curls forwards, kissing Mira again warmly, lingering, fingers dancing along Mira’s lower stomach, and Mira is suddenly excruciatingly aware of how long it’s been since she’s had sex. Her center aches; her fingers twitch on Rumi’s hips, wanting more.
“Okay,” she says as Rumi kisses across her cheek, finding her jaw, her neck. “Okay, okay. But we go at your pace, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Rumi exhales along Mira’s collarbone. “Never done any of this before.”
“I know.”
“If I do something wrong, or-”
Nudging her back, finding her eyes, Mira gives her a serious look. “There is no ‘wrong’. Just what feels good.” Heat passes between them as Rumi’s eyelids lower. Mira asks, “Can I touch you?”
Rumi nods. She inhales softly as Mira slides her palm up and around the swell of her breast, feeling, gently squeezing.
“You’re so beautiful,” Mira murmurs, watching. “Sexy, too.”
She blushes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Been driving me crazy these last few weeks.”
In a burst of bravery, Rumi leans back and shrugs off the t-shirt, leaving her in a soft-looking nude bralette, the kind she tends to wear around the house on days off. Not to be outdone, Mira reaches for the hem of her sweater, but she pauses.
“Uh. I don’t have a bra on.”
Rumi laughs. “I’m okay if you are.”
Fuck it, Mira thinks. She lifts her arms, pulling off the top in one movement and dropping it behind the sofa before bringing her hands back to Rumi’s waist. Rumi, who’s gone silent with wide eyes fixed adorably to Mira’s bare chest.
“Wow,” she says. “That’s- Okay.”
“You good?”
“Yes. Can I-?”
“Go for it.”
Carefully, so carefully, Rumi runs the backs of her knuckles along the sides of Mira’s tits. She then spreads her fingers and touches them fully. Mira’s always been lean from dance and work, not especially blessed in this department, but she wouldn’t have known that from Rumi’s current reaction. She looks totally riveted.
“Come here, pretty girl,” Mira says, amused. She puts a hand to Rumi’s neck and pulls her back in.
Making out with the woman of her dreams while topless and cozy on the couch is completely incredible. Rumi’s back is so soft under Mira’s palms as they kiss longer, hotter, increasingly indulgent. Mira takes a slight lead now, but Rumi is definitely finding her stride again, eagerly participating and making the cutest little sounds when Mira mouths down her neck, traces her spine, cups her ass over her shorts for the first time.
Mira wants to see her. She pulls back slightly, playing with the edges of Rumi’s bralette and raising an eyebrow. Breathless, Rumi nods, and Mira finally slides the straps down her arms before quickly unhooking the back and letting it fall away.
I’m dreaming, Mira thinks desperately.
Rumi is perfect. She’s paler here than the rest of her from lack of sun, nipples dark, breasts rounded under their own weight and so fucking soft when Mira fits her palms around them. Rumi sighs at the new sensation, arching her back.
“Hey,” Mira murmurs.
With a content grin, cat-like, Rumi looks down at her. “Hey.”
“You wanna take this upstairs?”
“Yours or mine?”
“You choose.”
Mira runs her hands down Rumi’s arms, tilting to kiss her collarbone while she thinks.
“Mm. Yours.”
Mira fights back a shiver at the thought of Rumi in her bed, on her sheets. “Sounds good to me.”
They stand to gather clothes and head for the stairs where Rumi suddenly giggles and jumps ahead, two steps at a time. Mira follows behind her with a slow smile, saying, “What’s gotten into you?”
“I dunno.” She stops at the top and peers over. “This is fun.”
“I’ll give you that.” Meeting her in front of the chosen bedroom door, Mira nods towards it. “Wanna let us in, angel?”
Rumi gazes back with her t-shirt held scrunched against her chest. “You keep doing that.”
“What?”
“Calling me stuff.”
It’s been instinctive so far - sweet girl, baby, angel, all the things Mira has had bouncing around in her head for months now. Maybe she needs to dial it back. “I can cool it,” she offers gently.
“No.”
“No?”
She’s tugging on her lower lip with her teeth. “I like it.”
Mira can’t help a grin. “Noted.” She opens the door. “After you, babe.”
She follows Rumi into her own room and nudges the door shut behind them; even though Zoey isn’t around, the gesture feels final. Mira chest tightens at the sight of Rumi’s bare back where she stands in the middle of the carpet, looking around as if she’s seeing the space for the first time. Mira supposes that, in a way, she is. She’s never been in Mira’s room under these particular circumstances.
Mira wants to ease that uncertainty, so she drops her sweater to the floor and steps close, skin to skin, hands soothing down Rumi’s patterned upper arms and kissing just under the hinge of her jaw.
Rumi hums and tilts her head back.
“We can just hang out,” Mira murmurs, rubbing her thumbs in slow circles. “Put our clothes back on, finish the movie. Whatever you want.”
“I know.” Turning, Rumi drops her own shirt and puts her arms back around Mira’s neck. “What do you want?”
Mira exhales carefully. “I don’t want you to go through with anything you don’t want to because of me.”
“I won’t,” Rumi promises, smiling. “I just wanna know.”
“I’ve… done things before. Not in a while, but-” Rumi’s smiling wider. “Don’t laugh!”
“I’m not,” she relents. “I’ve just had way too many sloshed sleepovers with you guys to not know exactly which ‘stuff’ you’ve done before.”
Cheeks heating, Mira busies herself stroking Rumi’s waist. “And what about it?” she grumbles.
“I like it, don’t worry.” Raising up on her toes slightly, she kisses Mira’s cheek. “So, what do you want to do?”
Mira’s going to combust - she’s not usually so open about this stuff in general, let alone with the woman of her fantasies. But she can try.
“I’m really excited to see you,” Mira confesses as Rumi softly kisses up towards her ear. “Like, all of you. I want to touch you everywhere. I wanna-” She swallows as Rumi’s tongue shyly peeks out against her neck. “I wanna see if you’ll be wet for me. I wanna taste that, one day.”
Rumi shivers, eyes closed when Mira leans back to see her.
“You asked,” Mira says with a soft smirk.
“Yeah.”
Their eyes meet and stay caught for a long moment. This close, Rumi’s eyes are the warmest brown, dark and soothing. If Mira really looks, she can catch a glimpse of gold in the iris of her left close to where her patterns reach out from her hairline, and Mira feels such an intense fondness that her breath catches.
Visibly, Rumi gathers her courage. “I’m down,” she says. “I want those things.”
Thank God, Mira thinks with relief, and with permission given, she sweeps a hand up to the back of Rumi’s head to tilt her and meet her mouth again.
Their rhythm picks up quickly, desire evident in lingering presses, the heated pauses in between, and the rush of breathing speeding up. Mira’s ravenous for it all, loving the softness of Rumi’s lips and tongue as she gains confidence and the clutch of her hands at Mira’s shoulders. Keeping her grip easy, Mira runs her free hand around Rumi’s ribs to cup her breast and brush over her nipple with a thumb, feeling against her mouth the tiny inhale Rumi can’t help.
She pushes back up against Mira’s body, angling for another kiss but loses her balance in the process with a small huff. “Ugh,” she mutters. “Can we, uh…?” She gestures behind herself with her chin.
“Lie down?” Mira guesses.
“Yeah.”
“Sure thing. Get comfy.”
Rumi scoots back onto the bed, Mira following her, crawling and settling, laying a knee between hers and scooping her up close by the waist. Rumi hums happily into the ensuing kiss as she crosses her arms behind Mira’s neck and pushes close. Heady sensations build, and Mira lets one hand wander south to trace along the waistband of her shorts.
“Can I-”
“Yes.”
She can’t help a quick laugh into the curve of Rumi’s neck before acquiescing to her wishes and dipping her hand between her legs. Through thin fabric, Mira cups her gently and presses in a slow circle. Rumi’s breath leaves her in a small huff at the first touch.
Leaning up on one elbow, Mira makes sure they can see each other.
“What do you like?” she asks, keeping up the slow circles. She’s so warm here, a little damp already, a little swollen.
Rumi’s brow creases, half in pleasure, half in askance. “Like?” she repeats.
“Yeah. Quick, slow? Gentle, or with pressure?” Mira lets up a little, one finger tracing. “Just a tease?”
“Oh. I, uh. I don’t know?” Possibly embarrassed, she winces. “I always use a vibrator. It’s faster.”
What an incredibly Rumi thing to say. Mira’s heart flips with pure affection.
“Fair enough,” she continues. “But we don’t need ‘faster’ right now, so maybe we can figure it out together.”
Bottom lip pulled between her teeth, Rumi nods. Her trust in Mira is a heady thing, and Mira feels like she has the most precious thing in the world held between her hands.
So, she starts off easy.
She kisses Rumi’s lips for a while before slipping down across her cheek, behind her ear, under her jaw. All the while, she strokes her through her shorts at a medium pace, medium pressure, making steady circles against the swell of Rumi’s clit. Rumi sighs and hums with closed eyes, hips shifting lazily as she lets the pleasure guide her.
“How’s that?” Mira whispers right close to her ear.
“Really nice.”
She blinks her eyes open and seems to suddenly remember that Mira is right here. Curious, she runs her free palm up Mira’s arm and shoulder, then down to gently squeeze her chest. Behind her, Rumi’s other hand strokes up and down her naked spine, occasionally running her fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck.
“Under,” Rumi mutters against her mouth between slow, deep kisses.
“Yeah? You want something?”
Mira can’t wait to further explore the pout she gets at a later date - of course Rumi would have a slumbering bratty streak a mile wide - but this isn’t the time, so she just slips her fingers down under Rumi’s waistband.
Her hair is coarser here, though neatly trimmed, as if Rumi would have it any other way. Further down, Mira finds her lips silky soft and wet when she passes an exploratory finger through them. She pets her a few times, and at Rumi’s small inhale, something deeply possessive hooks behind Mira’s breastbone. No one else has ever touched her here.
This is not a duty she takes lightly.
Over the next few heady minutes, Mira really focuses. Two fingers circling smoothly seems to do the trick, as do the occasional rosy marks Mira leaves across her pretty tits with her mouth, and, slowly, Rumi starts to develop this adorable little crease between her brows like she’s concentrating so hard on what’s happening.
“Breathe out,” Mira reminds her fondly after a little while. “Is it working for you?”
“Yeah - uh. Yeah, it’s working,” she manages tightly. “I wanna be- I wanna do it right-”
“You’re good,” Mira murmurs. “You don’t have to do anything at all. You don’t have to come. You can just enjoy yourself.” She kisses her temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yeah?” comes high and wobbly.
“Definitely. I could go for hours, feeling you like this, touching you and watching you.” Mira looks her in the eye. “Take your time, princess. I’m in it for the long haul.”
This seems to unlock something; her shoulders drop back on the mattress slightly, her core untensing, and her hips loosening, giving Mira a little more room to operate. She clings onto Mira and starts letting out small moans, lips parted against Mira’s collarbone. Mira herself doesn’t change a thing. She keeps her rhythm steady, cataloging every shudder, how Rumi’s clit hardens even further under her fingertips and the slight tremor along her inner thighs.
“That’s it,” Mira breathes as fingertips dig in slightly around her shoulders. “That’s my girl.”
“Fuck,” Rumi whimpers, and damn, if that doesn’t inflate Mira’s ego even further, hearing that word in particular fall from her mouth.
“I know,” she soothes. “Still feeling good?”
“So good.”
“Want more?”
“Mm - yeah.”
She’s wet enough for Mira to pick up the pace, swiping more than circling now, and Rumi responds immediately, head dropping back on a soft cry and leaving the elegant line of her neck free for Mira to messily mouth along.
Mira feels it happen in stages.
Rumi’s limbs gradually lock up, breath caught in her throat. Then she frowns and bites her lip, legs trembling with the promised force of what builds inside of her, between her hips. Mira watches in awe, never once letting up despite the distant fatigue settling into her forearm, keeping her quick rhythm as Rumi finally goes silent and arches, arches, body pulling tight like an elastic band-
“Oh- Oh, shit-”
She breaks on a shudder and moans long and loud, clutching at Mira and curling in on herself. Grinning, Mira doubles down, drawing out Rumi’s pleasure while she trembles and pushes her feet restlessly into the duvet, orgasming gorgeously.
“So good,” she whispers against the moans, whines, bitten off words falling from Rumi’s lips. “God, you’re so beautiful. That’s it, pretty girl, just like that.”
She gradually slows as Rumi does, following her lead until the woman below her exhales fully and the last tension releases, Mira’s hand finally still against her. Mira lowers her forehead to Rumi’s, eyes closed, and breathes with her.
A quiet minute passes.
Rumi sniffs delicately.
And again.
Slowly, Mira pulls back to find unshed tears glistening at the corners of tightly shut eyes. Sidestepping her initial pang of alarm, she strokes Rumi’s hair back with her clean hand.
“Hey,” she says calmly. “Alright?”
Rumi frowns, nods.
“Just a bit overwhelmed?”
Another small nod.
Mira sneakily wipes her fingers dry with the corner of Rumi’s shorts and then holds her waist. “Do you want to cuddle for a bit?”
A bigger nod, followed by a combo sniff-hiccup.
“Sorry,” Rumi whispers, finally gazing up at Mira. “It’s so… much.”
“Yeah. We’re okay.” Mira kisses her forehead, lingering, before shifting and opening her arms. “You’ve got absolutely nothing to apologize for. Come here.”
Rumi doesn’t need to be asked twice - she rolls into Mira and tucks her head right under her chin, wiggling and slinging a leg between her thighs. With her free foot, Mira stretches out and snags the folded blanket at the bottom of her bed between her toes, dragging it up until she can spread it over the both of them. Rumi hums sleepily as Mira tucks the edge around her shoulders.
“Better?”
“...mhm.”
Mira peers down at her. “You gonna fall asleep on me?”
“...maybe.”
While Rumi drifts on her endorphins, Mira can’t help a silent half smile at the ceiling as her girlfriend dozes off within the circle of her arms, and they’re on the tip of her tongue, again:
I love you.
They often are, lately. But she holds them safe inside of her for now, because Rumi knows. She knows, and she’ll return the actual words when she’s ready, and, really, Mira doesn’t worry. The words are irrelevant compared to the warm glow that sits between them both and emanates ever so subtly out into the threads of the Honmoon flowing around them.
Mira reaches out to flick off her bedside lamp, and then relaxes back, breathing in deeply and enjoying the weight of them together pressing her into the bed. Clean like plain soap and with notes of sweat and sex, Rumi’s scent fills her nose.
Said woman huffs a small laugh apropos of nothing.
“What?” Mira asks her, voice low, warm.
“Alert the press,” Rumi mumbles. “‘M not a virgin anymore.”
Mira bites back a chuckle. “Time to rewrite your wikipedia page.”
“Yeah.” She sighs and snuggles in impossibly closer. “‘Hottest woman in the world makes pop sensation Ryu Rumi see stars.’”
“Flatterer,” Mira mutters, playing with the hair at her temple.
Another few minutes slip by. Fatigue tugs at Mira’s own eyes, lids slowly slipping closed-
“When’s Zo back again?” Rumi whispers.
“Uh… day after next.”
Rumi says nothing further, prompting Mira to nudge her gently. “Why?”
“No reason.”
Mira grins into the dark.
“I’ve awakened something,” she teases.
“Shut up.”
“It’s okay, I like it.” She noses into Rumi’s hair and presses a kiss there. “I like you.”
With a pleased hum, Rumi snuggles impossibly closer, and Mira would never have imagined all of this happening to her given a million years to guess, but for once, she’s glad she had the courage to embrace what she couldn’t see coming at all.