Chapter Text
The adrenaline come down was an old friend at this point, accompanied by the ache of tired muscles, the quiet panting of her girls, and the hum of the Honmoon, glowing and content. But the setting was new. As was the nudity.
"So," Zoey panted, naked, sweaty and flushed, her skin shining in the dim light of Mira's bedroom, "How was it?"
"Good, good, very good, I don't know how to describe how good it was," she rambled, "I'm sorry, my brain's kind of soupy,"
"Mission accomplished then," Mira chuckled from her other side, pulling herself out of bed on shaky legs, only wearing her strap on and a cocky grin that was softer than usual around the edges.
"Was it good for you too?" Rumi asked her, watching intently as she undid the strap with shaky hands, her inner thighs shiny with slick.
Mira's head nodded like a bobblehead, "I didn't know you could come while wearing the strap," she laughed shakily, collapsing heavily back onto the mattress, "Does that happen a lot?"
"Not sure," Zoey, the most sexually experienced among them answered, "This time was definitely different. Good different. I think it was the Honmoon,"
"Really?" Rumi asked.
"We had nothing to do with it?" Mira joked.
"It was us and the Honmoon. We're connected to the Honmoon, and connected to each other, so the Honmoon's essentially acting as an echo chamber, so we're literally feeling each other's pleasure. Like when we're on a stage or in a fight, just sexier,"
Zoey was insistent on the three of them cleaning up before falling asleep, warning about the importance of sexual hygiene and the perils of UTIs. It made sense, but unfortunately, it gave Rumi time to reflect on what had happened.
She let herself sag into the seat of her sitting shower, and let the memories play back behind her eye lids. Sights, sounds, tactile sensations, mainly the latter. Tongues and fingers tracing her breasts, her mound, her patterns. The press of teeth and the vacuum seal of lips as hickeys were sucked into the skin of her chest and thighs, the ache soothed by gentle tongues. The way those hickeys had throbbed as she'd wrapped her legs around Mira as she'd been taken by her strap. The simultaneous crook of Mira's fingers within her and Zoey's tongue pressing against her clit as she came screaming. The weight of Zoey's thick thighs and ass as she'd sat on Rumi's face.
And god, what they'd tasted like. She could get drunk between their thighs. She might have. She definitely wanted to. She ran a careful hand over her clit, only for it to remind her that the condition of her flesh did not reflect the willingness of her soul.
She eventually stumbled into Zoey's bedroom (Clean mattress, Zoey had reasoned) and allowed herself a moment to take in the sight of her girls, how they'd taken the experience. Mira seemed more open, laughing more freely, walking with a carefree lightness in her step. Zoey seemed more settled, in control, comfortable in her skin.
And Rumi? She'd never felt safer, open yet protected, exposed but ensconced in unending love and acceptance. She could sink into their love and never need to come up for air.