Chapter Text
On the day their newest album goes platinum, Huntrix announces a months-long hiatus.
It comes as a shock to their fans. To some, it’s abandonment. To others, who know better, know it’s earned.
Huntrix has spent years touring the globe, leaving stardust and admiration in their wake. They’ve built fans in every corner of the world, built something unified and strong for the people who idolize them. The culture of fandom they’ve built, something founded on respect and trust and openness, means everything to them, and they’ve spread it nearly as far as it can go.
But they’re at the stage of their careers now when the worst kind of rumors start. Every year that passes brings whispered worries about endings and possible new beginnings and how much time do they have left?
Of course, it’s the kind of conversation they’ve had between themselves a dozen times. Checking in with each other while preparing dinner together, shared in bath house steam, in long car rides home.
It's important to know, after all, if all three of them are still content with the life they’ve built together, or if they’re ready to take the first tentative step towards the big changes they’ve lazily discussed. Penthouse swapped for something more safe and sturdy, hours in the recording studio exchanged for building a new legacy of their own, away from hunter duties and idol contracts. Time and space for the new things they would build together, new and exciting and wholly theirs.
It still astounds her, sometimes, that they can so easily sit down and casually have big, life-changing conversations. Mira at nineteen could never have imagined being so open and willing to communicate, because she could never imagine anyone being so willing to listen. Mira at twenty nine knows to never, ever take it for granted.
They come to the same conclusion every time: Huntrix is nowhere close to done, and Mira, Rumi, and Zoey are more than happy to keep riding their wave of success, hand in hand, for as far as it will take them.
So to Mira, it seems only fitting that they take a world tour of their own. They deserve to take it at their own pace. They deserve to take it together.
Shame on Mira for ever thinking it would be that simple.
“How could you?!” Zoey stamps her foot. “We had plans!”
“It was supposed to be a surprise!” Mira yells back. “How was I supposed to know you had the same idea?!”
Except she really should have known, in hindsight. Four years since Rumi joined their relationship, since the most perfect thing in Mira's life became so utterly and perfectly complete, and Rumi loves nothing more than celebrating big milestones with bigger celebrations. She’d taken it upon herself to plan Zoey’s last birthday party, a big blowout bash complete with a huge guest list and bigger media presence. It had made headline news after all, and not just for the deep, drunken kiss Rumi had smacked on her in front of the cameras.
Not to mention the sneaking around they’ve been doing. It should’ve been so obvious.
Zoey, ever shameless about her search history, slamming her laptop closed as soon as Mira walks in the room. Rumi, bent uncomfortably over her desk with an awkward smile, shielding her paperwork from Mira’s view, the both of them rushing her out of the room before she could see what they were up to, then taking turns kissing her so thoroughly brainless that she’d briefly forgotten her own name, let alone to ask what they were doing.
But Mira spent that time researching luxury hotels, five star restaurants, and begging Bobby to help keep Rumi and Zoey off the trail. Wanting to give her girls the world, always, but settling for a little slice of heaven in sun-soaked southern Italy instead. So she’d raised an eyebrow, and elected to let it go.
For as vain as certain outlets would like to claim she is, Mira’s thoughts had solely been dedicated to planning for weeks. Zoey would want to try every last gelato stand she could see, so Mira had left adventuring time factored into their schedule. And Rumi would need an extra hour scheduled daily just to decompress, after all the extra work she’d been doing on their album. Not to mention, they’d all learned on their last world tour just how necessary soundproof walls were in their hotel room.
It was this, and all the other little things she builds their life around, that had kept her busy. Too busy to pay attention to what they’d been doing, when they think she isn’t looking
She’d even started to understand, to her utter horror, why Rumi remains so dedicated to her meticulous spreadsheets.
But she’d made it perfect, down to the last detail. They’d have a wonderful time, the best time, and make the kind of memories Mira has to immortalize in a thousand different pictures, just so she can remember it forever-
Only to feel her stomach drop straight to her ass when she’d happily presented them with the tickets, and saw their faces fall.
“...I love you?” Mira tries.
“I love you too, you sentimental asshole.” Zoey huffs. “But not enough to give up our trip to Paris!”
On some level, she knows this is a silly thing to argue about. How lucky are they, in the grand scheme of things, to bicker about something so extravagant. Like they don’t have the rest of their lives to spend together, and enough money and privilege to go anywhere they want in the meantime.
Well. That’s the hope, anyway.
“I was really looking forward to seeing the Louvre. And Euro Disney.” Rumi pouts, arms crossing. “And Zoey in a french bikini.”
It almost cracks her resolve. Not what she says… mostly, but the pouty, bratty way she demands it. Maybe there’s something fucked up about the way it makes Mira want to crack a smile, but she soldiers on anyway. “I know, princess, but this time of year it’s so cold, and there’s so many tourists-”
“So what’s three more?” Zoey argues. “And- and! Maybe I wanted to take you guys ice skating! Did you think of that?”
Rumi’s eyebrows knit. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“Yesterday you tripped over your own feet walking down the stairs, and now you want to go ice skating?” Mira asks incredulously.
“It’s not about the ice skating! It’s about you trying not to fall, and holding onto me, and, and…” Zoey pouts, lip almost quivering. “I want my Hallmark moment, damnit.”
The corner of Mira’s lip twitches. Thank god she didn’t have a trip planned to Vegas instead. She’d lose her fortune in seconds.
“And you can have it in Rome, jagiya.” She soothes. “We can even take one of those stupid little canal boats in Venice.”
And then the fancy dinner she has planned, and the sparkling wine she requested, along with their favorite desserts. Planned down to the last detail so that she has enough time to steel her nerves and present them with the two little ring boxes tucked into her pockets, with a speech in her heart. After that, hopefully, a weeks-long whirlwind celebration up and down the Italian riviera. Where Rumi can nerd-out to her hearts content at the history and the architecture, and Zoey can swim with dolphins and sea turtles and anything else she wants, and Mira can sit back and marvel in the sun at the start of their shared forever.
… maybe Rumi has a point about that french bikini, though.
“I don’t want to have it in Rome! I want to split my face open when I fall and let you buy me an eclair afterwards to make up for it!” Zoey demands.
She bites her cheek to keep her grin in check. Arguing with Zoey is like arguing with a tiny, fluffy kitten filled with rage. She’s just so cute when she’s upset. “I’m sorry, but mine’s already booked, aegiya. We’re leaving in three days.”
“Well, cancel it!” Zoey cries. "We're leaving for Paris in five!"
Mira scoffs. “I can’t just cancel it, everything’s already booked!”
“Well, get Bobby to reschedule it then!”
“Absolutely not. He’s on vacation until the end of the month, and he deserves it after covering up everything you and I did in front of the tabloids last week.” Mira argues. “Besides, he didn’t help me plan it. I booked everything myself.”
Always a trump card, even if it’s one she didn’t mean to pull. It’s still a symptom of the way Zoey grew up: she doesn’t expect anyone to go the extra mile for her. She doesn’t expect anyone to remember what's important to her. She doesn't expect anyone to remember her coffee order, or the names of her favorite youtubers, or even her birthday, that first year they were trainees together. And it astounds her, still, that anyone would spend any extra energy, or time, or attention, towards making her happy.
Like Mira isn’t always willing to put in a ton of effort, when it comes to her girls.
“Thats- you-” Zoey turns red, then sputters, then sighs. “You suck, Mira.”
She can’t help her laugh, a little too fondly. “You know it, babe.”
This will blow over, she reasons. This won’t be their last hiatus, and Paris will still be there by the time it comes around. And one day, Mira will take them there. She’s just hoping for a new addition on each of their fingers first.
With Zoey too busy grumbling a slew of rough-sounding English words Mira chooses not to hear, she risks a glance at that finger and hopes. She glances at Rumi next-
And sees her with her arms crossed, and a deep frown on her face, her patterns softly flickering a periwinkle Mira can only describe as melancholy.
Alarm bells start going off in Mira’s head.
“You’re quiet over there.” She says softly. “What’s wrong?”
Rumi fidgets uncomfortably. Her eyes dart to Zoey, and then Mira, and her patterns darken to a deep magenta.
Shit.
“Hey, Rumi, talk to me.” She turns face to Rumi fully, Zoey snapping her jaw shut and doing the same beside her. “Are you really upset?”
And then, Mira waits.
This had been a hard thing to come to terms with, in their relationship. It would never not be hard for Rumi to talk about it when she’s feeling negative. She’s put so much work into it, so earnestly trying to get over her own mental roadblocks, but it was hard for all three of them to understand that it wasn’t a thing that could just be fixed. Mira and Zoey are always willing, would always be willing to talk it out, and they’d worked just as hard to convince Rumi of that. But there would always be a part of her that had worked too hard to stay bottled up, that needed extra coaxing to step out of its shell.
But still, she tries so hard, even when the words don’t come for her. It isn’t Mira’s responsibility to speak for her, and it isn’t Zoey’s either. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still reach for her hand, every time the words stick in her throat.
“You take such good care of us.” Rumi murmurs softly, sadly. “We just wanted to thank you for it.”
Mira's chest clenches. Goddamn Ryu Rumi, and all the ways she knows how to break Mira’s heart into a million pieces. She takes one of Rumi’s hands, then Zoey’s in her other. “You will never have to thank me for that. Never.”
“But I want to.” Rumi says petulantly. “I want… Mira, you do so much for us. I just wanted-”
“We,” Zoey cuts in with a frustrated growl, but takes Rumi’s hand anyway. “Just wanted to return the favor.”
Something uncomfortable grows in Mira's stomach.
“It’s not a favor.” She says slowly. “It’s not- did I make you feel like you had to?”
Mira had never been selfless. She’d never been so effortlessly kind like Rumi, and she’d never been able to care so big about the world like Zoey does. The fact of it was, no matter how much Rumi and Zoey tell her otherwise, Mira couldn’t think of herself as a good person. Not like the way they are.
But she wasn’t expectant. Mira cares for them simply because she likes seeing them cared for, likes seeing them happy and content and safe, and because she knows better than to trust anyone else to make them that way. Her love had never been transactional.
And, she realizes with a pit in her throat, she’d never forgive herself if she’d made them feel as though it was.
Rumi blanches. “Wait, that's not what I meant-”
“Mira, I know we don’t have to. We just want to take our smoking hot girlfriend on vacation and show her off a little. That's all this is. We just wanna show you a little love and attention and maybe fuck your brains out after we eat like a million croissants.” Zoey’s smile is tired, and she looks like she’s entirely over this conversation, but Mira’s heart still does flips, now that she's smiling. “We love you. Let us take you to Paris this week. Please?”
“But you’d tell me if you felt that way, right? If I made you feel like you needed to…” She struggles for the word, and it doesn’t come, but it settles thick on her tongue like ash anyway.
Rumi looks stricken. “Mira, no.”
“We know you like to take care of us. And we love you for it.” Zoey says earnestly. “But we thought we could convince you to let us take care of you for a little while. Let us do something special, just for you.”
Mira fidgets. “You don’t have to-”
“We know we don’t have to.” Rumi interrupts. “And we know you’d never ask for anything in return. But we want to give it to you anyway.” Rumi smiles softly, her patterns calming down now that she’s found her footing. And Mira is glad, despite the pit in her stomach, because seeing Rumi find her confidence has a way of easing most of life's ills. “Because we love you, even when you want to ruin weeks of planning by being the sweetest girl alive.”
Mira feels her ears burn. “That’s not-”
“A whole week in Paris, and we just wanna spend all our time doting on you, baby.” Zoey grins. Rumi takes her hand, and Zoey takes her other. “Anything you want. It makes us happy, when you’re happy.”
It isn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last time, that Mira wonders exactly what she did in a past life to deserve this.
Fuck. She has to marry them. She has no idea what she’ll do if they say no.
“You make me happy.” She murmurs quietly, even though it makes her ears burn. “And I’ll take you two anywhere you want to go. Anything you want.” She kisses the back of Zoey’s hand, then Rumi’s. “I promise.”
Zoey looks at her hopefully. “So you’ll cancel?”
“No.” Zoey and Rumi’s faces fall. “But it’s a long hiatus. We can do both. Just… mine has to come first, okay? Can you trust me on that? Please?”
Please don’t ask why, Mira begs in her head, please don’t make me lie to you.
The truth would of course be better, Mira thinks. But maybe she wants her hallmark moment too, loathe as she is to admit any resemblance to those terrible American movies.
“To the ends of the earth.” Rumi murmurs. Then frowns. “But apparently not on space mountain.”
“Not yet.” She promises. “But I’ll make it up to you. We can replan everything you want in Paris for after we get back from Rome.” She squeezes their hands, then lets them drop, and quickly looks away from their disappointed faces. “Look, we can do it right now. And we can order like, an aquarium's worth of sushi afterwards and you can kick my ass at Mario Kart afterwards, Zoey. I won’t even bitch about it when you cheat and blue-shell me right before I cross the finish line.”
It’s entirely self-soothing behavior, and she knows it. But fuck it, looking at the two of them when they’re this upset makes her stomach hurt.
-which is why she completely misses the glance the two of them shoot each other behind her head. She sits on the couch, pats the seats on either side of her.
“Come sit with me. We can plan this out.” She reaches for her laptop, internally cheers that she’d already left it open on airline webpages. “Zoey, I’ll even let you pick out those stupid matching mouse ears for us-”
-Only to see Rumi and Zoey already stripped of their shirts. Rumi left in a black halter-top bra. Zoey topless, already eyeing each other appreciatively. Shit-eating grins on both of them that she is not looking at.
Her eyes widen. Her laptop slips right out of her hands.
“What,” She tries, she tries so hard to keep the crack out of her voice. “Are you doing?”
Rumi bats her long eyelashes. “We’re only doing as the French do, Mira.”
For how hard she’s worked to never, ever find herself at the total mercy of another human being, Mira still finds herself utterly helpless to follow Rumi’s hand, curling around the small of Zoey’s back to pull her close, smoothing along her side, palming soft flesh-
No. Zoey has a face, a very pretty face she should really be looking at-
Mira makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat. “You-”
Rumi presses their foreheads together, altogether gleeful as she chuckles. “Mmm, I think they still have topless beaches this time of year, right Zoey?”
“Does it matter?” Zoey loops her arms behind Rumi’s neck, tucks her head under Rumi’s neck as they’re pulled chest-to-chest. “We can make our own if they don’t.”
Mira blinks hard. She makes a sound akin to what their last printer had made, before Zoey tried to print the wrong file and fried the motherboard.
“But not in public, silly.” Zoey giggles. “You know how jealous Mira gets.”
It stopped being a secret a long time ago, how possessive she gets. Even longer since she’s been ashamed of it. Her girls are their own people, and obviously more than capable of fighting their own battles. As demon hunters and as idols they belong to the world almost as much as they belong to each other. And Mira has done her best to make peace with that.
Or, as much as she can to save face in public, per Rumi’s strict orders. Because try as hard as she can to act otherwise, Mira does want to possess. She wants to own and keep and cradle and -
“Yeah, maybe a little jealous.” Rumi’s lips curve into a wicked smile. “But absolutely a hypocrite.”
Oh. So that’s the game, then.
Fuuuck.
Mira’s always liked this game. The chase, the pure admiration, the way they work so hard to resist giving in before finally folding to her whims. And, sue her, she really likes getting her way and getting whatever she wants for being an undeniable tease.
She finds, to her horror as she scrambles for a way to pick her jaw up off the ground, that she doesn’t much like being on the other side of it.
“Well, Mira?” Zoey peeks at her hopefully from Rumi’s under Rumi’s chin. “Does this help convince you to see reason?”
So little else she wants to see but the sight in front of her. She wants it tattooed on her eyelids forever, paintings commissioned for her eyes only. So little she wants to say with her mouth, but so much with her hands-
No. She can be strong. She’s a part-time model in her day job, for fucks sakes. She knows how to fake it.
“Nah.” She leans back on the couch, lets her legs spread as she relaxes. “I’m just enjoying the view.”
“Oh, she can speak.” Rumi says dismissively, frowning. “What a shame. We’ll have to fix that, Zoey.”
“Oh baby, say less.” Zoey purrs, and pulls her in to press their lips together.
There’s no reason for her to feel jealous. It hasn’t even been a day since the last time she’s kissed both of them like this. But Zoey makes the prettiest, softest little giggle when Rumi’s fingers curl into the belt loops on her jeans and pull to tug her even closer. And Rumi just melts into Zoey, all lovely and languid as Zoey cups her face, lets their kiss turn downright sloppy.
Mira’s eyelid twitches. It’s fine. She can be strong. She has so much practice saying no to pretty, perfect girls with big brown eyes and pouty lips and perfect bre-
Zoey moans softly as Rumi licks into her lips, her hands sliding up to grab onto Zoey’s waist and squeeze. Rumi sighs, warm and content with skin underneath her hands and Zoey’s thumbs tracing the patterns along her face.
Rumi nips gently at Zoey’s bottom lip, so politely requesting entrance. She’s so careful with her little pointed fang, but Zoey moans loud.
Mira decides, as she clenches her fists, that the two of them won’t be able to walk by the time she’s through with them. She’ll have to carry them (slung over her shoulder, just because she can) onto the plane in three days.
Worth it, she thinks, and silently simmers in her seat.
Eventually, Zoey begins turning red, and not just because of blood rushing anywhere but her head. She makes a soft, desperate little noise against Rumi’s mouth. She pushes at Rumi’s shoulders, and the groan Rumi makes as they part is downright adorable, even as she presses their foreheads together, unwilling to let Zoey too far out of her grasp.
Rumi swallows and murmurs quietly, brushing their noses together. “Color, baby?”
And that pulls a reaction from Mira, an ugly little spike of envy turning into a groan in the back of her throat.
Because she likes checking in. She likes getting that confirmation that she's doing a good job, she likes it when she pulls back, just for a moment, for her girls to chase her back. She likes fixing what’s wrong, if something is, she likes adjusting to exactly what they need. She likes it when she gets permission to please, her girls spread beneath her and wanting-
Zoey isn’t looking at her, too busy panting and staring into Rumi’s eyes, but her smirk is evil for Mira anyways. “Green, baby. So green.”
Rumi gives her an inch, but Zoey takes a mile. Zoey grasps the back of Rumi’s neck and yanks Rumi’s face back down to hers, impulsive and hungry. And Rumi, always so bold but always so yielding, only moans softly at Zoey’s hands on her skin. Slowly, surely, Zoey paws under Rumi’s bra, pushing her chest higher and higher-
Mira drags a harsh breath in. Italy. Wine. Honeymoon suite-
They separate once more with a smack, a thin string of saliva connecting their lips before falling. Both of them glance in Mira's direction, eyes dark and dazed.
“I know it would be cold, but,” Rumi simpers, her big brown eyes dark as she bites her lip. “But you’d keep us warm, wouldn’t you?”
“Shit.” She moves to stand, doesn’t care that her legs and her backbone have each melted to jello. “Let me-”
“Ah ah ah-” She barely hears the teasing drawl before Zoey’s hand on her forehead pushes her back, and she stumbles back into the couch. “No touching.”
“Zoey.” Mira hisses.
“Yeah, Mira,” Rumi smirks at her through dusty pink cheeks. “No touching.”
It was almost easier when Rumi was embarrassed every time she got naked, Mira laments silently. She’d been so shy about it. But that meant that Mira and Zoey both had ample reason to pull her into their arms, to soothe oversensitive nerves with the right kiss or caress until Rumi was relaxed into their arms. Back then, Mira had no idea how hard she’d have to work just to keep Rumi satiated. Or just how much of a monster she was unleashing for herself, once Rumi refound her confidence and learned how to pounce.
After all, no one had warned Mira that a side effect of dating two (beautiful, gorgeous, perfect) women at once was just how fucked she was once they decided to team up against her.
But this? This is unfair, unjust, should be downright illegal-
Zoey rests her chin on Rumi’s shoulder, her eyes sparkling with lust and arrogance. “How’s the taste of your own medicine, Mira?”
A pinch. Rumi yelps, then blushes all the way down to her collarbone. Pretty patterns flushing rose-gold pink.
Mira’s jaw tightens. Her clenched fists tremble in her lap.
They’d put so much effort into designing this living room. She’d put so much effort into designing as much comfort for their eyes as their bodies, she’d made so sure that there was always something pretty to rest their eyes on after long days. Abstract but stunning art, the clean lines of their kitchen, and the gorgeous view of Seoul beneath them.
And she tries, she really tries to look at any of that instead of Zoey groping at the muscles of Rumi’s shoulders, nails scraping against sensitive patterns that make Rumi shiver in her grasp. But that was a losing game, and it had been ever since she stepped foot onto Celine’s compound, and couldn’t drag her eyes away from the pretty girl with purple hair and a sword too big for her hands. She’d known she was screwed the second Zoey first kissed her in the bathhouse, and happily accepted she’d stay that way forever.
“Turn for me, babe.” Zoey says. Rumi obliges, turns her front to Mira as Zoey slides behind her, melting into the curve of her spine as she presses them back to front. “Arms up.”
And Rumi, always so willing, always so good for them both, doesn’t hesitate. But Zoey surprises them both, temporarily abandoning the pursuit of stripping her girlfriend in favor of cupping Rumi’s breasts in her hands and squeezing.
Rumi gasps. Mira regrets her life choices.
“Zoey!” Rumi’s arms jerk in the air, fingers scrabbling at the back of Zoey’s head as her patterns pulse bright.
“Isn’t she so gorgeous, Mira?” Zoey coos, sighs indulgently against Rumi's neck as she finally peels off Rumi’s bra, slides it up and over her arms. “Don’t you want to give her everything?”
Mira growls low in her throat.
“You- you two always gang up on me.” Rumi complains lightly. “Zo, this is about Mira.”
It doesn’t have to be, Mira thinks, and promptly abandons pretending it isn’t pathetic when she whines as Zoey lets wandering hands roam aimlessly along pulsing, patterned skin.
“I can’t help it baby, you make it so easy.” Zoey sighs happily, thumbs stroking matching patterns along her ribcage, before reaching to touch higher. “And you love it.”
“Fuck- I do.” She says, shameless as she arches her chest further into Zoey’s hands. “God, I love you two so much, love the way you touch me-”
Mira shifts in her seat, thighs flexing and unflexing. The pressure is relieving, until it isn’t. Not enough to soothe the growing ache between her thighs, not enough to focus on keeping her wits about her. Not enough to help fight control from slipping right out of her grasp.
Rumi likes giving up control. She deserves to get to, because she works so hard, and it’s the honor of Mira’s fucking life to get to hold that trust in her hands and keep it safe. After a lifetime of restriction, of worrying she would never be able to take back any control she gave up, she likes to indulge in whatever pleasure she can get, and god, does Mira like to satisfy.
Zoey can go either way, delights in any way she can get wrapped up in her girls. But if the mood strikes her right, she likes to be convinced to hand over her control, likes to work them both up until she’s weak in the knees and still finds a special way to push every last one of Mira’s buttons. But she’s so responsive once she’s convinced by the right touch, so open and eager to please. She likes to be valued, she likes to be seen, she likes to make her girls work for it.
But Mira-
“Oh,” Rumi moans, high and sharp and so fucking pretty. “Oh, Zoey-”
Mira hates giving up control.
“You like this too, don’t you?” Zoey purrs.
Rumi’s little laugh is breathless. “Like what?”
“Oh, you know, don’t you?” Zoey hums, coy and playful as she traces along a sharp pattern, jutting down, down, down across Rumi’s chest. “Being spoiled.”
It’s like taking a shin-kal to the core. Sharp and low, and Mira’s lower stomach burns with it.
“Zoeyyy.” Rumi whines. Somehow louder than usual, and some distant part of Mira thinks that's for her benefit. “Stop teasing me!”
“Mmm, but you like that too.” Zoey giggles, cups, rolls. “And Mira likes it more.”
“S’true.” Rumi’s breath is shaky, edging on a soft little moan as Zoey just plays with her. “Mira likes to flirt.”
Mira crosses her arms and huffs. Refuses to give them the satisfaction of an answer.
“She does.” Zoey’s hands settle at her hips, a kiss pressed in the juncture of shoulder and neck, and Rumi shudders. “But not me. I’ll give you anything you want, angel.”
Fucking- as if making her watch wasn’t enough, Zoey just has to poke at her pride?
“That’s n-not true.” She says, and she hopes like hell that she doesn’t sound as desperate as she feels. “Don’t I always give you what you want, princess?”
“I wasn’t talking to you, you plans-ruiner.” Zoey snaps, and directs her attention back to Rumi with a kiss on her shoulder. “What do you want, unnie?”
Evil, evil, evil for Zoey to pull that out of her bag of tricks, when she knows the way that word makes Mira clench her thighs together-
Rumi sighs, high and breathy and gorgeous as Zoey strokes along a pattern on her stomach, just above her shorts. “I want Mira. And then your mouth.”
Her pride flares. Something else throbs.
“You two,” She growls. “Will pay for this.”
This time, she does catch the look they shoot each other, just before they turn twin evil grins to her.
“Oh, will we?”
And that was the one skill of a hunter Mira had never quite mastered: she could never tell she was in danger until it was far too late.
Rumi lands in her lap with the grace of a panther, but pins her wrists to her sides twice as gently. Mira struggles a moment, but it’s all performative. Rumi might like being manhandled, on occasion. But it was an easy mistake to make, thinking it was simply because Mira was stronger. No, it had made her head spin the first time she realized that the only reason she’d ever been able to pin Rumi was simply because Rumi had been letting her.
The heat of Rumi’s skin presses all the way through Mira’s clothes, the smell of sweat and lavender on her skin, all of it filling her senses with nothing but Rumi, Rumi, Rumi.
Nowhere to go. As if Mira ever would.
And oh, the smouldering soft look Rumi sets on her. She’s still lethal with her smile, like she expects the world to be handed to her and for you to thank her for the privilege. Perhaps this is a comeuppance years in the making, for how Mira has always folded in an instant to give it to her.
Or at least, she thinks that Rumi looks like. She can’t quite bring herself to look at her face.
Rumi squeezes at her wrists. “Color?”
“Green.” She says, and lets a smirk play at her lips. “Feel free to convince me all you want babe, but it’s not gonna work.”
Rumi snorts. “Look me in my eyes and say that.”
“Hm.” Mira shakes her head. “No. I don’t think I will.”
Just to prove her point, she throws herself forward to pull soft, peaked flesh to her mouth, before Rumi maneuvers herself away with a hunter's grace, torso just out of her reach.
“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” Zoey giggles from behind her. Mira doesn’t get a chance to track her movement before Rumi presses their torsos together, tucks her head under Mira's chin. It would be oh so sweet, if not for the long, filthy stripe she licks up Mira’s neck.
Mira shudders, tries to close her legs on reflex. On any day and every day, she has a healthy appreciation for Rumi’s solid torso. Even and except now, when Rumi presses her lips into the space between her jaw and neck, draws the skin between her lips and sucks.
“Oh, you’re so pretty, Mira.” Rumi sighs, inhales deeply. “Especially like this. All spread out for me.”
Her patterns glow and pulse iridescent, hair escaped from her loosened braid tickling Mira’s chin. Almost wholly exposed and stunning, confidence written in the long line of her body. She tucks the length of her torso against Mira, front to front with no room between them, and it never fails to leave Mira at a loss for words, when she has Rumi this close.
She’s beautiful. She’s radiant, she’s Mira’s-
“You’re one to talk.” Mira murmurs.
“Flirt. You know, I think you’d have me like just this, if you could.” Rumi smiles, breathlessly stunning, and just about everything Mira has ever wanted, just out of her grasp. “God, Mira. You know, you drive me crazy sometimes. When you pin me down and tease me, when you kiss me. When you’re touching me but never really touch me.”
“I wanna-” Mira swallows hard and squirms, but Rumi’s grip is unrelenting. “Let go of me. I’ll touch you wherever you want, baby, please-”
“I want-” Rumi huffs, just a hint of frustration, her voice dropping to her demonic timbre that vibrates against Mira’s skin. “To show you the way you make me feel. When you work me up so bad that you make me cry, when you hold me down just like this-
Rumi presses impossibly closer, the long line of her body fully caging Mira against the couch. Mira’s heart beats wildly in her chest, between her legs, in her throat. So loud there’s no way Rumi doesn’t hear it as she groans long and slow, face buried in Mira’s neck.
“You make me feel so wanted, baby.” Rumi pants hotly, with a filthy roll of her hips. “Oh god, I want you so bad.”
She thinks Zoey mutters a dazed holy shit behind them, but Mira’s blood rushes too fast in her ears to hear it, and she’s far too mesmerized by the press of Rumi’s tongue to care.
“M’so lucky. We’re so lucky.” She pants, whines high and desperate in Mira's ear. “Oh Mira, you’re always so good to me.”
“That’s all we want to do, you know.” Zoey murmurs, a low voice just beside Mira’s other ear. There’s the briefest scrape of teeth against her shoulder as Rumi’s teeth pull the strap of her shirt down, before licking a long stripe over the exposed flesh. “We just wanna spoil you back, Mir.”
For that Mira has no answer, not as Rumi’s long tongue dips below the collar of her shirt, slipping to lick the salt of sweat off her sternum.
“You said you’d give me anything I wanted. I just wanna- I just wanna keep you-” Rumi whines softly, indulging herself with a soft nip in the hollow of Mira’s collarbone. “Like this. Just for me. All mine.”
“Rumi-” Her hips jump. “Fuck, just let me-”
Rumi swings one of her legs over hers, brackets her thigh with her own. Too wide still for Mira to close hers, but just right for Rumi to shuffle herself down and for Mira to groan at the drag of Rumi’s soaked little shorts against her leg.
“I’m- fuck- yours.” Rumi’s voice is as raw and desperate as the long, slow grind of her hips against Mira’s thigh. “You’re mine.”
Mira moans, defenses crumbled to dust. She wants to say it back like she wants to breathe, but just the right touch of Rumi’s fangs against her skin has the words fizzling out of her brain, suckling a mark right into the side of her neck, ad then another, climbing up the long column of her throat.
“Don’t you know that by now?” Rumi husks, a frustrated nip at her earlobe. “I just can’t get enough of you.”
She wants to say something in the vein of forever, and whatever Rumi want’s, and oh, just because she wants it however she wants it, and that even after all this time Rumi still has her too tongue tied to ever put into words-
And doesn’t get the chance, before two fingers under her chin jerk her head back sharply.
The force of it nearly gives her whiplash, but the sight of Zoey standing half naked over top of her, leaning over the back of the couch with a grin on her face that Mira can only describe as evil, leaves her lightheaded anyway.
It only gives Rumi more space to mouth at her neck, drag her sharp incisors over her fluttering pulse. A groan rips itself out of her throat before she has the chance to yank it back.
“Shit- I love you.” She chokes out, because Zoey looks too perfect even when she’s a step away from cruel, from laughing at Mira’s plight, to ever say anything else, and because sometimes, she still can’t believe she gets to.
“Both of you.” Mira manages to choke out, before Rumi starts nipping fluttering kisses up and down, down, down her sternum, and she promptly forgets how to breathe.
“I love you too.” Zoey smirks, and suddenly Mira’s never wanted anything as badly as she wants Zoey’s lips on hers. “Rumi’s right, you’re so fucking pretty like this, Mir.”
“Zoey.” She squirms, trying to get closer, but Rumi’s grip is iron. “Zo, come on-”
“No, babe.” Zoey smirks, braces her hands on either side of Mira’s head. “You know how I like to watch. And I love how you look like this.”
A finger reaches out, traces where Rumi’s marked her already, and Mira hisses. “L-like what?”
Zoey hums, almost noncommittal if not for the evil glint in her eyes. Zoey's hands slip behind her, into long pink locks. She cups the back of Mira's head almost fondly, almost sweetly, even if short fingernails against her scalp scream danger.
But Zoey is gentle, so gentle as she combs her fingers through Mira’s hair. And because Zoey knows her, knows every little trick to get Mira to fall right into her hands and probably has it written down in a notebook somewhere, Mira is powerless to her whims.
It’s like being caught between a firestorm and a cooling breeze, between the hot press of Rumi’s rutting hips and the tender press and tingle of Zoey’s hands against her scalp.
She knows exactly what Zoey’s doing, knows with crystal clarity how embarrassingly loud she can get if relaxed in just the right way. But she shivers at the touch anyway, can feel the tension leak out of her with every pass.
Zoey’s gaze locks on her. Eyes dark, but still with that fucking smirk.
Mira’s breath catches. But Zoey just flips the long curtain of hair over the back of the couch, lets it fan out behind her. It leaves her neck exposed, it leaves her aching.
Slowly, Zoey curls her fingers, drags blunt nails up the back of her neck, and something in Mira’s brain explodes.
Mira groans at the fire shooting up her spine, her brain going fuzzy to anything but hands and lips on her skin. Zoey does it again, and again, and it punches a wanton noise straight from Mira’s chest, when she’s so utterly defenseless in their hands.
“You look so perfect, baby. So needy. But like you’d do anything I asked.” Zoey whispers, dark and reverent, and it has no right to send sparks down her spine when Zoey looks at her like that. “Oh, just look at you. Lovergirl.”
I would, she thinks, and hates herself just a little for how badly she means it, if you would just lean down-
But Zoey backs away instead, and giggles. Freckled shoulders shake with mirth, and Mira whimpers. Is life worth living, really, if Zoey isn’t there to kiss her?
Rumi’s rutting turns frantic, breathy whimpers turning helpless in her ear. Her patterns glow iridescent, her grip like a vice on Mira’s wrists.
“You know what we want. Just you, Mir.” Zoey’s voice turns syrupy sweet, she drags her fingers slowly around the curve of Mira's lips. “Let me give you everything you’ve ever wanted. Just for a week, unnie, please?”
“Zoey.” Mira whines, forces some air into burning lungs. “I can’t-”
“Let us take care of you, for once.” Rumi murmurs against her neck, before whining softly in her ear. “Please?”
She can feel the wet spot Rumi’s leaving behind, feels it stain her pants as it grows. But sweet, deliciously spoiled Rumi can’t get off like this, can’t do anything but whine and beg in Mira’s ear. Mira's fault, Mira’s favorite responsibility, the thing Mira wants so bad that she could scream just for the chance to get hands on skin.
It's rare that Rumi would even get this far. But it’s so rare that Mira’s this helpless.
She wants her hands on her, wants her mouth on Zoey, wants them so bad that she gasps with it, something impatient and demanding between her legs that pulses with her rapid heartbeat.
She thrashes in Rumi’s grip, bucks her hips against empty air. It’s useless and she knew it would be. But she needs them and she wants them so fucking bad and oh god, she’s melting.
“I just want you two all to myself, all for me, in the most romantic city on the goddamn planet.” Zoey thumbs the shape of her lips so torturously slow. “Don’t you want that too, unnie?”
“Want you- fuck, Rumi-.” Mira hisses as a hot, forked tongue skirts up the length of her throat. “Please, Zoey, I wanna kiss you-”
Must’ve been a good answer, because Zoey brushes her nose against Mira’s. So sweet, and fluttery feeling almost too warm when the press of Rumi’s body against hers leaves her still so hot hot hot.
Mira strains so bad it almost hurts. Her back arches, the heat of her own breath reflects back to her lips, her mouth watering as Zoey leans in close, close, closer-
“Mira?”
“Yes?” She breathes.
“We’re taking you to Paris.” Rumi says firmly.
“... yes.” She strains against her hold. “Yes. Fine. Just-”
Zoey kisses her firmly, and Mira has never before been so glad to be shut the hell up.
Her mind goes blank for the briefest second as Rumi releases her wrists with a triumphant giggle, too many possibilities now finally in her grasp, the thought of choosing one over another almost painful before her brain comes back online, and she swings one arm around Rumi’s waist to bring her impossibly closer, another around the back of Zoey’s neck to keep her right where she is now.
Rumi trembles in her grasp all the same as she strokes a pattern on her thigh, palming the soft flesh just as Zoey makes the sweetest little gasp into her mouth and Mira swallows it greedily. She’s so greedy for all of it, all of them even as her pride smarts-
There’s plenty of places to propose in Paris, Mira briefly reasons, before her hand slips down Rumi’s shorts, and she feels the blunt point of Zoey’s teeth against her bottom lip, and she happily stops thinking about anything but her girls.
A week later, a surprised Rumi clutches her hand while Zoey drops to one knee in front of them, in the most romantically candle-lit ice rink Mira has ever set foot in, and damn near begs to marry them both. Rumi weeps while accepting, then demands she stands back up because her surprise plan had been to propose at Montmartre cathedral. Zoey, too busy being kissed within an inch of her life by both of them, does her best, all the while Mira makes a valiant effort to not cry the happiest tears of her life.
(She fails.)