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In many ways, tonight was an astonishing feat. It was a rare coincidence that, on their own, didn’t happen very often. And yet, however lucky she felt, here they all were. All of them were off for an entire weekend. Two days where no alarms would drag someone out of bed at dawn, no shoots, no overtime at the studio, no waiting for someone to stumble home half-asleep and apologize for missing dinner again. It was her, it was Zoey, and it was Mira. The three of them, her partners, with a whole weekend off.
It was a special weekend indeed.
And the three of them were celebrating in the best way they knew how.
First, as always, the couch. (And she hoped it always would be.)
Rumi would be the last one to arrive. Currently in the back of the car, coming back from a meeting. Almost home. Almost with them. Her phone buzzed again, lighting up the groupchat. Both of her girlfriends had been exchanging messages the whole day in there, and she smiled while reading the texts.
Mira: I’m cooking dinner
Mira: Requests?
Zoey’s typing bubble appeared, but before there were any messages from her, another one from Mira popped up.
Mira: We are not having ramen for the third night in a row Zoey
Zoey: awwww
Zoey: why notttt
Mira: Requests have to have a vegetable in it
Mira: That goes for you too Ru
Rumi: I didn’t even say anything.
Mira: Didnt have to
Zoey: OH OH OH MIR CAN YOU MAKE THE THING YOU MADE LAST MONTH
Mira: The thing I made last month she says as if i dont cook every other day
Rumi: I think she meant the Daegu Jorim that you made last month.
Zoey: YES YES THAT ONE
Mira: Okay at least that dish has vegetables on it
Zoey: YAY love you twooo be home in 15 sexys
Mira: Love you too Zo
Rumi: I’ll be home in around half an hour.
Rumi: Mira, let me know if you need anything. I can stop on the way home.
Rumi bit her lip and sent another text.
Rumi: Love you both, too.
And so they had dinner on the couch.
The moment Rumi stepped through the door, the smell hit her first: Mira’s cooking, warm and familiar. Her shoulders immediately dropped an inch. She didn’t even have time to take her shoes off before the second greeting wrapped around her—Zoey’s arms, soft and grounding. Home, her mind supplied.
There were, of course, other things planned around this weekend of free time. Plans that went unspoken in potentially overseen group chats. Plans to be talked about over dinner. And then—because of course it would be Zoey, it was always Zoey—right in the middle of the movie, she sat up abruptly and said, “You know what would be fun to do tonight?”
“Fuck?” Mira replied casually, smirking.
(The patterns on her body shone for a flicker, a bright pink, a want, arousal. This didn’t go unnoticed by two watchful eyes from across the couch.)
“Very eloquent, Mira,” Rumi said instead, keeping the mood light.
Mira shot her a flat look. “I just made you guys dinner for two hours after a gruelling modeling day. Screw me for not speaking properly.”
Zoey giggled from beside her, cheerful as always. “You weren’t technically wrong either.”
Mira turned to Zoey. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” Suspicion already shaping her gaze, like she could sense whatever it was forming in Zoey’s head before she even opened her mouth.
Rumi didn’t blame her. Zoey definitely had that look in her eyes. One that Rumi came to know quite well in the past several months of them dating each other. A look that told Rumi that she was planning something.
And generally, whenever Zoey had these looks directed at Rumi, it meant—it meant Rumi was going to end up begging. Maybe on her knees, maybe on her back, maybe stomach down, being made to take it. She would beg to come, to be touched, to stop coming, to stop being touched. Any and all situations have happened before. And Rumi had grown to enjoy it, enjoy it even more when Zoey, in all of it, praised her with firm yet kind words,
“Not yet, Rumi. You can take it for us, can’t you? Our good girl. You’re so good for us, just one more, one more, pretty girl.
Or, more recently.
“Look at our big, scary demon, Mira. Not so scary now, isn't she? Begging for us like this, whining like the pathetic, needy thing she is.”
She wasn’t sure yet which Zoey she would encounter tonight. But Rumi was already wanting. Her patterns flickered again.
“I want to try the thing we said last time,” Zoey said, breaking eye contact with Mira only to shoot a quick glance in her direction.
A memory came to her. “Oh,” Rumi gasped out softly. She could already feel the heat creeping up her neck, her pulse picking up in ways she hoped weren’t visible by her patterns, a surge of arousal shot directly between her legs that had her shifting in her seat.
Rumi remembered the thing Zoey was talking about. Just like she remembered the dish Zoey had mentioned in the groupchat—the one Mira ended up cooking tonight. It wasn’t a hardship to remember.
“What thing?” Mira asked.
And from the tone, Rumi knew that she was pretending to be confused. It was Mira’s turn to look at Rumi now, catching the flush that was definitely on her own face, how her body was already reacting to their teasing. Mira knew exactly what thing Zoey was talking about.
“How long can Rumi last without us touching her.”
And it was the way Zoey said it. That was what got Rumi the most—more than the words, more than the memory itself.
“I thought it was how long she could last in general.” Mira corrected herself a heartbeat later—because of course she did. Of course, she suddenly had no problems remembering now.
“Ohhh,” Zoey hummed, dragging the sound out just to be dramatic. “You’re right, Mir.” Zoey amended with a grin that was far too pleased with itself, a wicked look in her eyes now. Mira mirrored it perfectly. A matching smirk, subtle but lethal, just one raised corner of her mouth, and the weight of her gaze on Rumi.
Those twin looks. They did something to Rumi. Together, they were a combination Rumi had never learned how to defend herself against.
(And why would she defend herself against them? A year ago, she never would’ve believed she could feel like this—this open, this vulnerable, this willing. The call of submitting wholly to them, the way she would get on her knees for Mira and Zoey, like she never dared to do with anyone else. The way her body and heart both answered to them.)
(Not that she wanted to offer that to anyone else. It was them. It was only the three of them, together, always. She had nothing left to fear here, nothing she needed to hide.)
Those looks. The ones that made her weak at the knees instantly, looks that could turn her on in a single second. Looks that immediately left her wanting, and wanting.
Her breath hitched.
“I think a solid hour,” Mira said, her voice brimming with confidence; it sounded so casual, like Mira was talking about how Rumi could learn an entire choreography in an hour.
Rumi thought that an hour was generous, even for Mira. She thought less; she was already wet for them.
“Nah,” Zoey interrupted with her cheerful voice, then she leveled her gaze to Rumi, shutting off the rest of her remaining coherent thoughts, “I think she’ll be a good girl tonight, you’ll wait until you can get permission to come right, Rums?”
Rumi felt the heat crawl down her body, from her cheeks, and spreading lower. The food she held in her hands, the one she was desperate to get her hands on when she came back home, suddenly seemed like an obstacle she had to cross instead. She could feel their eyes on her. She didn’t need to look to know—the weight of their attention was unmistakable. She could feel their shared smirks as they revel in Rumi’s reaction to their words. Like this was a casual dinner conversation instead of—whatever it actually was. Maybe this counted as foreplay.
“Yes,” was all Rumi could say, muffled around the mouthful of food she’d stuffed into her mouth. Food that she hastily chewed with the desperation of someone trying to physically block words from escaping.
As if chewing could save her from herself. As if swallowing fast enough might erase the heat in her face.
But it was too late.
Oh well, she thought, resigned, cheeks burning.
“Who’s the eloquent one now?” Mira teased, casually.
Zoey barked out a laugh and smacked Mira lightly on the shoulder. “That was a good one, Mir.”
Rumi scrunched up her nose at them. “Whatever,” she muttered, waving her chopsticks vaguely before adding, “as if you’re not going to—” She stopped.
The second half of the sentence caught in her throat, suddenly too heavy, too revealing to say out loud.
Her mouth felt unbearably dry.
“As if I’m not going to what? Get fucked?” Mira asked, “Oh yeah, I am. And I’ll enjoy it, unlike you.”
Rumi glared at Mira, but it didn’t do anything. If anything, her smirk deepened into something even more insufferably knowing.
“It’s okay, Rumi. You’ll definitely enjoy it, too.” Zoey soothed, “Maybe we’ll even cuff you with your hands behind your back.” Her words were full of heat now, desire spilling out, “On your knees for us. Watching us fuck each other. I know how much you like it when we moan your name for you, pretty girl.”
Rumi was suddenly hyperaware of every breath she was taking. Zoey’s words did nothing but turn her on, building her up for the inevitable.
And they were still just having dinner.
“I promise you’ll enjoy it too,” Zoey said, almost flippantly, as she put another spoonful of food in her mouth.
Rumi was already so wet, she could feel it.
“Right.” Rumi choked out.
She didn’t dare to look at them. It was only when Mira brushed her hand over her back that she realized that Mira stood up.
“Finish your food,” Mira said, “You’re going to need the energy.”
Rumi nodded automatically, chopsticks pausing mid-air before she remembered to keep eating. Mira’s footsteps retreated toward the kitchen, and soon she was refilling all their waters with a pitcher. There was a new tension stretched across the living room. It made Rumi suddenly very aware of the food in front of her, of how slowly she was chewing, of how quickly she wanted to be done. It encouraged quick bites and even quicker silences, like they were all following an unspoken agreement to get through this part.
When the last few bites disappeared and the plates were stacked together, Zoey was the first to stand.
The movement drew Rumi’s attention whether she wanted it to or not.
Zoey gathered the plates from the coffee table. “Mira, can you get the stuff from your room and bring it to mine? Rumi and I will do the dishes.”
Rumi barely registered the words as instructions—only that they were happening. There was no complaint from Mira for once, not even a classic retort. She just stood, taking the long way around the couch to her room so that she could pat Rumi’s cheek on the way. Mira’s thumb skimmed once over her face, a single, deliberate stroke. Rumi could feel every hair on her neck stand up. Her fingers curled reflexively in her lap.
And then Mira was gone. A pattern that would repeat itself throughout the night, she was sure.
Rumi knew that this was Zoey’s way of checking in, of creating something ordinary to stand between them—piling dishes and cups into her arms. It was a moment together, a moment she will also do with Mira in a few minutes. Rumi stood at the sink, rinsing plates one by one, lining them up for the dishwasher. Then Zoey had a hand on her shoulder, feet tiptoeing until her lips were against Rumi’s cheek, “How are you feeling?”
Rumi wiped her hands on the dish towel and slipped an arm around Zoey’s waist, tugging her closer. She turned her head just enough to press a small, gentle kiss on her lips, “Good.” Rumi hummed, “And you?”
“So good.” Zoey beamed, constellations dancing in her eyes. “I can’t wait.”
She leaned into Zoey instinctively, tilting her head just slightly, letting the proximity settle over her. “I can’t wait either,” Rumi murmured, voice low enough like it was meant only for Zoey’s ears.
Zoey smiled and kissed her again. “Alright, put the leftovers in the fridge,” she said. A command. “Then, come to my room whenever you’re ready.”
“Okay,” Rumi said, her voice quieter than usual.
Zoey nipped at her earlobe, spoke directly into her ear, “Strip before coming in.”
Rumi shivered and took a deep breath. Zoey trailed kisses down her neck, to the juncture of her shoulders. And fuck, no amount of breathing exercises that she was taught could ever prepare her for how hard it was to breathe right now.
“Okay,” Rumi said, again.
“Don’t keep us waiting too long,” Zoey hummed, ending her trail of kisses on Rumi’s back, where her shirt had ridden down. Then, just as quickly, she stepped away. She padded down the hallway, disappearing behind the wall to her bedroom.
Rumi took a steadying breath, letting the room come back into focus. Their penthouse looked the same as it always did when they first moved in. A place with each of their own bedrooms, two bathrooms, balconies, a kitchen, and their beloved couch.
It was theirs. All three of them.
Home.
She never felt as at ease anywhere else. With their photos on the walls, their achievements and awards, and the subtle yet intimate mess of shared space. Mira’s stray hoodie on the kitchen counter, one of Zoey’s blankets on their couch.
She opened the fridge, and dutifully slid the leftovers onto its designated shelf—the second from the top. Then she poured herself a glass of water. Half of it disappeared in one go, the cold sliding down her body and pulling her back into herself. The fridge door closing was loud against the silence of their open living space.
If Rumi focused enough, she could hear Mira and Zoey’s voices drifting from upstairs. There were muffled voices, then a thump, then silence.
Her phone vibrated from where she had left it on the table. Rumi glanced toward it, the pull brief but instinctive. And then Zoey’s words rang through her ears. She couldn’t keep them waiting too long. Nothing could pull her away from this moment, from the home she’d chosen—and that had chosen her back.
Rumi left her phone on the table and let herself be carried by muscle memory to her own bedroom. She changed out of her clothes rhythmically, two hands pulling her shirt up, unzipping her jeans. Then, unclasping her bra, sliding her underwear down her legs. Familiar motions that didn’t require thought.
She paused in front of the full-length mirror beside her bed.
Mira had been telling her for years to move it. Something about bad energy, about not sleeping with a mirror facing you. Rumi had always brushed it off. Months ago, she’d needed it there—needed to look, to track, to see where the patterns had spread.
She studied her reflection now, the shine of her patterns no longer a shame she carried. Maybe she could move it now.
With one last look at herself, Rumi started the short walk to Zoey’s bedroom. Naked, she felt every one of her senses heighten. She could feel the cold tiles beneath her feet, the air from the air conditioner passing by her body, making her nipples harden. Zoey’s door was already ajar. Rumi pushed it open gently and slipped inside.
Her breath caught immediately.
(As it always did when it came to the two of them.)
The room was dim, lit only by Zoey’s nightlight and the city glow bleeding in through the curtains. Mira and Zoey were already on the bed, and they were kissing. Zoey, with a hand on Mira’s neck, while Mira was already shirtless. They were trading slow kisses, unhurried.
They both looked up when Rumi stepped closer, but neither of them spoke. Zoey gave her an approving smile once, then returned her attention back to Mira. Rumi didn’t move—couldn’t. She stood there, waiting, watching, giving all control to both of them.
Rumi was made to stand there for a while.
She watched as her girlfriends’ slow kisses turned more heated. Both of them undressing each other with a purpose now, hands lingering at each other’s waists, chests, stomachs. They deepened their kisses, and both of them were huffing out little teasing moans until they finally pulled away from each other, breath ragged.
Finally, finally.
Zoey turned her head and beckoned Rumi to come closer, “What are you doing standing there? Come to bed.”
A trick question that Rumi left hanging. She wouldn’t have dared to move, not until one of them told her to.
“Here’s how it’s going to go,” Zoey said, “You’re not allowed to come until I say so, okay?”
Zoey shifted behind Mira, drawing her in until she was cradled comfortably between her legs. Mira went easily, sliding down until she was half reclined against the bed, her head settling against Zoey’s shoulder. One of Zoey’s hands was on Mira’s thigh, drawing small circles. The other she wrapped around Mira’s middle, coming up to rest on Mira’s sternum, tipping Mira’s head back a little. Mira’s neck was exposed, but she was still able to watch Rumi.
Then Zoey pushed Mira’s leg to open, and Rumi still couldn’t move. She watched as Zoey trailed her hand near Mira’s pussy, resting it on the mound, teasing. Zoey tilted Mira’s head so she could sink her teeth into her neck. Mira moaned out a choked sound of Zoey’s name.
Zoey’s eyes flicked to Rumi, urgent. “Come, Rumi.”
Rumi blinked, startled into awareness, realizing she was still frozen where she stood. “Sorry,” she replied to Zoey. She crossed the three steps to Zoey’s bed, and the moment she moved, everything rushed back in. Her heightened senses hit her back in full force now that she was out of her earlier haze.
Zoey was whispering into Mira’s ear. Even with her senses sharpened, Rumi couldn’t catch the words. But even if Zoey’s words weren’t clear, Mira’s grunts and whimpers were loud in her ears.
When she looked back at them, Zoey was rubbing slow circles on Mira’s clit with her middle finger, with another two parting her folds. Mira was biting her lip, pressing her back into Zoey’s body to chase what she was sure looked like soft, barely there touches.
“Look at our pretty girl, Mira.” Zoey said, “Her patterns are pink, glowing.” She tapped at Mira’s clit with one finger, “I bet she’s already wet for us.”
Rumi settled onto the bed in front of them, sitting back on her heels. She let them watch her, a nod to how comfortable she was with their eyes tracing over every inch of her body. Her patterns, written where they could see them. What had been her biggest and loneliest insecurity had a different meaning here now, reshaped by the way Mira’s gaze lingered without judgment, by the way Zoey looked at her like nothing about her needed fixing. Like something they cherished.
“Touch yourself,” Zoey ordered.
Rumi gave a small whine at her words, just as Mira gasped out a small, “Fuck.”
Then she was touching herself, as simple as that. Rumi brought one hand up to play with one of her hardened nipples, twisting it, imagining her hand was one of theirs instead. With her other hand, she glided it down her stomach, slowly. She let her legs fall open on their own, sliding across the bedsheet with a faint rustle.
“Don’t put fingers inside you,” Zoey said again. “Keep them outside, touch yourself where I can see.”
Rumi followed her instructions, two fingers working herself up, then finding her clit. She let out a low moan at her own touch; at the same time, Mira did. She wondered if Zoey was doing the same thing Rumi was doing to Mira.
Mira, who was now writhing against Zoey’s hand, bucking her hips up. Her breathing was unsteady. Zoey now had one hand resting on the column of Mira’s throat. Rumi wasn’t sure Mira was going to last.
“Faster.”
It took a second for Rumi to realize that the words were meant for her. She whimpered, speeding up just like Zoey told her to. Rumi added one more finger, stroking her clit in a fast up-and-down movement, coaxing it out, letting it build.
Between Mira’s moans and her own touch, Rumi clenched her teeth to try to keep herself from tipping over the edge. They barely even started. She knew she was going to endure a lot more than this before she could earn her orgasm.
Mira had no such qualms, however. Rumi could both see and hear it when she came. It was quick pants and a long drawn-out moan, while Mira closed her eyes and jerked her hips. Zoey was marking her neck with small hickeys, bright red instead of purple. Hard enough to be seen now, but not deep enough to leave it lasting past the weekend.
Rumi could feel the slick dripping out of her into the sheets. She felt her patterns burn brighter as her whole body flushed a shade of red; she was panting now too. But she didn’t stop, not until Zoey said she could.
There was an overwhelming sense of relief that travelled down her body when Zoey said, “That’s enough, Rumi.”
She stopped at Zoey’s command, ignoring her own body’s telltale signs of an orgasm. They hadn’t touched her yet, and yet she was already so close. Her hand shook briefly when she rested it on top of her thigh.
“Come here, tiger.” It was Mira this time, her voice a little roughened from use.
Rumi lay down beside them, obediently putting her hands above her head, crossing them as she did so. She watched as Mira and Zoey kissed, lazily again. Watched as their tongues explored each other’s mouths. And Rumi was left waiting, wet and ignored.
She didn’t mind it because as soon as they were done, she was rewarded with Mira’s hand running up her thigh—caressing her with pointed, blunt fingertips.
“Such a good girl,” Zoey said, moving between Rumi’s legs, “Is all of this for us?” She swiped a finger on the sensitive crease of Rumi’s inner thigh, gathering up some of the wetness that pooled there.
Zoey brought it to her mouth, and Rumi whined.
Rumi was, in all but the literal meaning of the word, fucked.
In the best way possible. Both of her girlfriends had that look in their eyes again, that heavy look that told her that tonight: they were going to push and they were going to pull, they were going to make her take it and take it until she was going to be begging and sobbing by the end of it.
So yes, once again, in all but the literal sense of the word, Rumi was fucked.
—
Touching herself so much when she was forbidden to come was excruciating. Around the third time that they denied her, Rumi was still beside them with Zoey riding Mira’s face. One of Mira’s hands was on Rumi’s thigh, making sure she was still spread open, squeezing every time Zoey grinded down on Mira’s tongue. She was made to touch herself again; her cunt was pulsing at the emptiness, her clit was beginning to feel sore from how rough she played with it.
Rumi whimpered but kept going, her leg twitching under Mira’s hold, her head turned so that she could watch them. Zoey told her to watch, and she hasn’t taken her eyes off them since. The pleasure that was ebbing within her began building up again. It was a constant feeling now—the anticipation of nothing, only the chase, catching it now and then, just enough to keep it going. Prolonging the inevitable.
“Yes—angh—right there, Mir.” Zoey moaned, the words going straight to Rumi’s core, only intensifying when just a second later, Zoey followed up with a keening sound of her name, “Hah—hah Rumi—”
Fuck.
“Are you close, baby?” Zoey asked.
Rumi nodded at her, only to be met with a disapproving side-eye. She unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth and rasped out, “Yes, please, please, Zoey.”
Zoey gave her a sly grin that told Rumi all that needed to be said before focusing back to chase on her own finish. Even though it was Mira’s mouth on her, it was Zoey in control. Rumi could see how she rode Mira’s face, how her moans pitched higher and higher, how she showed what she wanted without words, how she was taking what she needed from Mira’s eager mouth.
“Rumi,” Zoey cried out, again. One of Zoey’s hands found purchase in Mira’s hair, holding her in place. From Rumi’s position on the bed, she couldn’t see what Mira was doing, but she could imagine it. She could imagine Mira fucking her with her tongue, could imagine Mira holding her down by the legs while Rumi came in her mouth. And having Zoey moan her name, being made to watch, knowing that all of that was because of Rumi. Her insides clenched at the thought. She was so turned on that she felt like she could come from nothing
Rumi could only continue imagining as she watched Zoey’s hips stutter, while she gasped out a silent scream, bowed over, thighs clenching around Mira’s head as she came. Rumi could hear the sound of it, of Mira lapping up her wetness as she worked Zoey through it.
Her own whimpers filled the otherwise silent room now. Rumi was so close, and she told them so, “Zoey, Zoey, pleasepleaseplease, let me come, please.” Her own hand sped up, her legs giving her away, the familiar signs that she was close.
She was on the edge, her back arching off the bed and—
“Stop.”
Rumi cried as she stopped and collapsed back on the bed. She whimpered, lightheaded from the air she couldn’t breathe inside her lungs. She wanted to say something, but she couldn’t find the words for it. In her head, she faintly registered that Zoey had moved off of Mira’s face now.
The first touch of Zoey’s hands on her body had Rumi spasm. Zoey rolled a peaked nipple between her fingers, roughly, and Rumi moaned.
“Good job, Rums,” Zoey said, tugging at her nipple, digging into it with her nail. It hurt, but she was past the point of blurring pain and pleasure. The pain grounded her instead, kept her in the present, a reminder that helped her from getting too lost in the throes of arousal that Zoey was repeating.
“You lasted an hour.” Mira’s voice spoke to her. Mira was lying down on her side now, head propped up on one hand to watch Rumi.
(She was sure that an hour had come and gone a long time ago. But she was grateful for the reminder.)
“You’re amazing, Rumi,” Zoey said.
Rumi wasn’t sure she could speak. It had been four times now, four times that she’d been brought to the edge. She hasn’t been touched, she hasn’t been fucked. Four times she’s been denied release.
Zoey slid her hand from Rumi’s chest to her stomach. She caught the smirk on Zoey’s face as Rumi tried to roll her hips, searching for any sort of touch from them, anything that would quell the feeling inside her. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.
“What do you want, Unnie? Tell me what you want.” Zoey inched her hand closer and closer.
“You,” Rumi gasped out as Zoey raked her nails over the dip of her waist, “You, your fingers, your strap, anything, please, please.”
“And you think you deserve it already?” Zoey asked, her thumb on the top of her cunt, exposing her, letting the wetness slip out. Rumi’s hips followed her touch, but she couldn’t feel anything like this.
“Please,” Rumi begged. She was sure she was crying. Zoey was so close to touching her, she could only feel the ache of the emptiness inside of her, yearning to be filled.
A hand came up to grip her face—Mira’s, she recognized now. She turned Rumi’s head to face her, “Just say yes, princess,” she said.
“Yes,” Rumi obeyed.
And just like that, two of Zoey’s fingers were inside her.
Rumi screamed and jumped at the first feeling of Zoey’s fingers curling against her inner walls. She was so wet, there was hardly any resistance. Zoey mercilessly fucked into her, angling every stroke in and out just right. It felt good, it felt like a test; she suddenly remembered that she wasn’t allowed to come.
“Zoey,” she moaned, thrusting back against Zoey’s fingers, “Please.”
“You’ll come when I say you can, Rumi.”
And what can Rumi do except say, “Yes.”
Zoey fucked her fingers deep into her, stroking her. Rumi could feel every inch of Zoey’s fingers moving and pressing firmly inside her pussy. Rumi was whimpering constantly now, gripping the bedsheets above her head. Mira made cooing noises at her, tucked away a stray hair from her face. Even more whines rose in her throat. Zoey kept at it, gauging each one of Rumi’s reactions as she slowed down each time Rumi got close.
They knew full well that she could handle it, that she wasn’t at her limit yet.
Rumi lost track of how many times Zoey brought her up, only for her to stop again. She knew that she was a mess beneath her, body writhing, incoherent noises pouring out from her slack jaw. Maybe she was still begging, but the words began blurring together into a heady whine.
After some time, Zoey stopped again, pulling her fingers all the way out. It was only then that Rumi realized that she was gripping Mira’s arm so tightly that it left angry crescent marks on her skin, realized that she was sobbing, her body trembling with the readiness to come.
Rumi cried when she felt the loss of Zoey’s body above her, “Noo,” she whined.
Mira came close to her then, shushing her, “Relax, princess. Zoey’s just going to get something. She’ll be right back. You’re so good for us.”
“Please,” Rumi rasped out, the word slipping out of her mouth before she could stop it, “please, Mir.”
They knew what Rumi was asking for now.
Footsteps caught her attention again. Zoey had put on a harness, the deep blue dildo jutting out. Rumi’s heart raced faster at the sight.
“Zoey,” Rumi whispered. She was asking.
Zoey moved back up on the bed, and she ducked down to kiss Rumi. Zoey kissed her deep enough to let Rumi momentarily forget about the ache between her legs, pushing her tongue in through Rumi’s waiting mouth. Zoey let out a low moan into her mouth, and Rumi could feel the vibration on the back of her throat.
“I’m going to fuck Mira first,” Zoey pulled away just a little to say this against Rumi’s mouth. She sank her teeth into Rumi’s lower lip, pulled, “You can be patient, right, baby?”
Without even giving Rumi time to answer, Zoey was building her back up again. Her lips moved towards Rumi’s jaw, her neck, and she gave a bite to each one of her nipples before moving off of her. And as soon as Zoey was gone, Rumi became all too aware of her need coming back in full force, how desperately turned on she was, and how much she had been denied tonight.
“Eyes on us, pretty girl,” Zoey said as she moved in front of Mira.
Rumi dragged her gaze over to both of them. Mira was on her back again, Zoey on her knees between Mira’s legs. The silicone toy bobbed as Zoey lined herself to Mira’s pussy, and once again, Rumi was reminded how empty she was, grasping at nothing.
She watched as Zoey ran her hand down Mira’s thigh to the back of her knee, bending it up and pushing it aside. She watched as Zoey held the lubed dildo in her hand, fit it right up against Mira, and then pushed it in. She watched as Mira clenched around it and moaned.
Moaned her name again. Rumi’s.
Zoey pushed at Mira’s thigh, spreading Mira open, and looked directly at Rumi’s eyes when she fucked Mira. Each snap of her hips held power, Zoey’s eyes tracking her with a deliberate, punctuating weight. Rumi couldn’t look away from her, couldn’t tear her eyes away from how Zoey punched out a gasp out of Mira on each thrust.
Mira wasn’t often loud, but she was making noises now, like she couldn’t help it. “Ah–ah!” sounds spilling out from her mouth. Rumi moaned at the sight of her, at the anticipation of it being her next, to feel Zoey’s strap on her own pussy. Her hand snaked down her belly without realizing.
Zoey caught the movement, tuts at her—at her hand, at trying to touch herself without permission. Rumi flexed her fingers and put them back on her side, clawing at the sheets. She grinded down to nothing.
“Poor baby,” Zoey said, “Come closer here.”
Rumi did as told, shifting closer so that she was right next to Mira, shoulders touching. She could feel the brush of skin every time Zoey thrusted into Mira.
“Open your legs,” Zoey continued.
She did. Then Zoey leaned over to the side, stretching her arm to reach Rumi. Her fingers land on Rumi’s cunt again. Rumi moaned loudly at having Zoey’s fingers back on her. She could feel how they were moving together now, all three of them, connected.
There was the slapping sound of skin on skin, the slick dripping down Zoey’s fingers, the relentless feeling of the wave building up again, and not being sure if she could let go. She whined, began pleading again—a litany of please and her girlfriends’ names. With the angle Zoey’s working with, Rumi fought to keep still.
“Yeah, like that?” Zoey sighed out, two fingers buried inside Rumi, her strap pushing in and out of Mira in a steady rhythm, “Look at you two. Fuck. Do you even know how you guys look right now?”
Rumi did. She had a feeling Mira felt the same. Both of them being fucked by Zoey—it was a sight to see. Zoey snapped her hips down harder at Mira, her head thrown back, her fingers working through Rumi.
Close. Rumi was so close.
She had to come.
“Zoey, I’m—I’m—” Rumi sobbed, rolling her hips to Zoey’s fingers, “Baby, I can’t—hah, please.”
She couldn’t last.
“You can come after Mira does,” Zoey said.
Rumi reached for Mira’s hand on the bed, found it, and laced their fingers together. She began begging, “Mira, I need to come, please, I need—angh—Mira, baby, come for me, please.”
“Oh, fuck, I,” Mira moaned, “Fuck, Rumi, Rumi, I—“
Mira’s fingers squeezed around Rumi’s palm tightly. Her back arched, and Zoey smiled as she ground the strap deep into Mira, keeping the fullness of it all the way in, in time with her fingers curling inside Rumi. Both of them shuddered, trembling beneath her.
“Yeah,” Zoey whispered, her voice raspy, “Ah, ahah, both of you are shaking, are you both going to come for me? My good girls. Show me, show me—”
“Zoey,” Mira choked out, her mouth open wide. “Fuck, Zo—!”
And then Mira shuddered hard beneath Zoey, her fingers tightening over Rumi’s own. Zoey was panting out, “Yeah, that’s it, Mir. So pretty, perfect,” Mira was boneless, no movement except for her deep breaths, little tremors that shook her body every time Zoey moved.
All through it, Zoey still had her fingers moving inside of her. Rumi looked up at Zoey, pleading. Zoey gave a firm nod, then put a thumb to circle Rumi’s clit. A wave of pleasure rolled through her like a low tide turning, pulling everything else out with it. Rumi chased the feeling, crying out their names. It buzzed through her teeth, the pads of her fingertips. She was so close, she could feel it gathering deep inside as Zoey kept pressing her clit, and continued to move her fingers so that it’d hit that spot on the way out each time.
All of the sensation gathered behind her stomach, making her clench around Zoey, and she was so close, so close, it felt so good, Zoey’s fingers felt better than anything. And then it all tightened and crested as she cried out. Rumi realized she was being loud, could hear her own voice ringing through her ears. She trembled, her cunt convusing around Zoey’s fingers, where Zoey was still fucking her through her orgasm. There was rushing in her ears, and she could feel where she had soaked Zoey’s hand.
When Rumi came back to her senses, she opened her eyes first. She watched dazedly as Zoey sat up and made her way off the bed again, she didn’t whine like last time. She would if she could remember how to move her body, but then Mira squeezed her hand and Rumi let her head droop to the other side to see her.
“Good girl,” Mira murmured before kissing her quickly, just a peck. She brought a hand up to Rumi’s face, wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye, then brought it up to her mouth to suck it off her finger. “You waited so patiently, Zoey’s going to give you what you want now, okay?”
Rumi had half a conscious mind to realize that Mira meant that Zoey was going to fuck her with the strap now. Part of her felt too sensitive, but yet, she was somehow still needy, the want was still there—to split her open, to take her, to let Zoey and Mira give her everything.
“Okay,” Rumi answered Mira. And Mira scooted closer over to her, one of her hand moved in between Rumi’s legs and slid over her pussy, spreading the slick around.
“So wet,” Mira whispered in her ear before taking her earlobe between her teeth. It sent shivers down Rumi’s spine, it was enough to get her riled up again. And then, without warning, she was sliding two of her fingers across her clit, because Rumi was incredibly wet. Mira began to circle around her clit, fast and hard, and Rumi let out a low moan, turning her body towards Mira, panting on her collarbone. She clamped her legs around Mira’s hand, keeping it there. It felt so good, she couldn’t even protest at how rough Mira was treating her clit.
“Mira, I can’t,” Rumi breathed into her neck.
“You can take it,” Mira said, pressing a kiss to Rumi’s head. “We gotta get you ready for Zoey, hm?”
Rumi let Mira’s words wash over her, hid her neck in Mira’s neck. She bit at her there, a small bite—Mira tasted like sweat, and sex, and skin. She moaned as Mira swiped over her clit at a lightning pace, determined to wring one more out of her before Zoey came back. It made her body taut, curling in on itself, and Mira must notice it because she didn’t stop. She did it again and again, until her body dissolved into pleasure, coming with Mira between her teeth.
Mira finally stopped just as Rumi felt the bed dip behind her, “You look so pretty like this, Rumi,” she said.
“Doesn’t she? Our pretty Unnie,” Zoey’s voice chimed in. Rumi barely had time to come down from the orgasm that Mira gave her when Zoey grabbed onto her hips and rolled her back upright.
“All ours,” Zoey licked her lips as she fit herself between Rumi’s legs, while Mira hauled herself up to cradle Rumi’s upper body in her lap.
Zoey looked down, eyes canvassing her body, and in one slow thrust, she slid the dildo inside. Rumi gasped, catching Zoey’s stare. Her eyes were dark, almost all pupil, as she looked at Rumi with an overwhelming amount of intimacy. This was still something that Rumi was still getting used to, the heavy weight of their desire seeped into each of their actions. She whimpered, feeling herself clench around the toy. Zoey began to move, grinding deep inside Rumi that it had the tip of the dildo reach a spot that had Rumi spasm. Rumi let her head roll back against Mira’s thighs.
The way Zoey was fucking her. It was good, too good. Her pussy felt overly slick, pleasure tightening in her core again, a familiar omen.
“Rums, aren’t you forgetting something?” Zoey asked, running a hand across her chest, settling on her heart to push herself in deeper.
“Wha—?” Rumi gasped out.
“Hm,” Zoey stopped.
“Zoey,” Rumi whined, trembling against both of their holds. “Why?”
“What do you say when someone gives you something you’ve been wanting?” Zoey asked, taking one of her legs and stretching it up so that it would go over Zoey’s shoulder.
“Oh.”
Zoey trailed her hand from her chest, down below her stomach. She pressed the dildo in again before pushing with her hand. Rumi jerked her whole body and choked out, “Thank you.” Her vision began blurring, everything turning to white—fading into the background.
“That’s my good girl,” Zoey pulled out and thrusted in again, hard and fast, just like how she did with Mira.
“Fuck, Zo.” Rumi keened, then remembered, “Thank you.”
Zoey moaned and fucked her harder, “Yeah, Ru? You feel good? You look so good like this, made to take me, to stretch around my cock.”
“Yeah, yes, Zo—hah—please, please.”
“You already have it, babe, you don’t need to beg anymore,” Zoey said, leaning down to kiss Rumi’s open mouth.
“Hah—Thank you, thank you, thank you—nghh,” Rumi whimpered.
Zoey was so good at this. She was right, it felt overwhelmingly good. Rumi wrapped one of her arms around Zoey’s shoulder, the other to Mira’s thigh beside her. She moved in time with Zoey’s hips, grinding together. It put her clit right up against the base of the harness and gave her something to thrust up into, and that felt good too.
Rumi was no longer aware of anything beyond this. The feeling of the dildo slamming into her over and over, Zoey setting a merciless pace that sent her body further back towards Mira with each thrust. The drag of the silicone inside her inner walls sent her reeling, crying out broken moans of her girlfriends’ names.
“Poor baby,” she heard Mira say. “I’ve got you,” Mira told her, a hand snaked up her chest to tweak and pull at her nipples. “I have you, princess.”
Fuck.
Rumi made a broken sound in the back of her throat, hips rocking up helplessly as she frantically chased her orgasm. Her cunt kept clenching around the dildo, making it harder for Zoey to pull in and out. Her clit was throbbing by now, by how much use it had. Every tug on her nipples from Mira sent a spark straight to her core. Every part of her body felt like it was winding up tighter and tighter. She cried, clutching at both of her girlfriends, body begging for release.
She couldn’t think of anything right now but coming. Mira kissed her neck, started to suck on it, sending another trail of sensation down her body. Rumi started losing her rhythm to keep up with Zoey, she felt the full-bodied clutch of her impending orgasm.
“Zoey, Zoey—I’m gonna,” Rumi stuttered. Her mouth was open, spit rolled down her chin, while she was shaking.
“Yeah, that’s it. Come for me, Rumi.”
Zoey’s thumb dug into her thigh as she spread Rumi’s legs more to coax the orgasm out of Rumi. Her pleasure crested like the force of the ripple of the Honmoon. Her hips jerked up against Zoey’s as she came hard. Wetness spilled out of her, soaking Zoey’s thighs; she was too out of it to care.
She didn’t know how long she felt the wave of aftershocks as Zoey kept moving slowly inside of her. It lasted long enough to feel like forever, and short enough to leave her aching when it was over. Mira held her steady through it, Rumi’s body was limp and loose as she came down. When the aftershocks slowed long enough, Rumi opened her eyes to look up at Zoey. She was breathing heavily, her cheek resting against Rumi’s legs.
Finally, Zoey stopped altogether and pulled out of her slowly. It made Rumi wince. She felt too empty inside again. She trapped the whimper threatening to come out behind her teeth. Zoey gently put her leg down from her shoulder back to the bed, while Mira ran her hands soothingly up and down her arms.
Zoey slipped out of the bed again. Rumi and Mira watched as she undid the harness, pulled it out from between her legs, and nonchalantly tossed it to the nearest available surface (her desk chair) before jumping back on the bed.
“Cuddles?” And just like that, the moment shifted.
Rumi couldn’t help the soft laugh that slipped free. Zoey smiled at her and collapsed on top of her, dragging Mira to lay down as well. They exchanged slow kisses, all three of them, trading who got to kiss who. While Rumi kissed Zoey, Mira kissed the back of Rumi’s neck all the way to the dip of her collarbone. While Rumi kissed Mira, Zoey tangled their legs together, nuzzled into the crook of her neck, breathing deeply. While Zoey and Mira kissed each other, Rumi wrapped an arm around them both, kept them close as she shut her eyes.
In a while, Mira will make them do their nightly routine whenever they had a scene like this. Zoey would take Rumi to the bathroom first to clean up. They would get into the shower, and Zoey would massage and lather Rumi in warm water and soap. It was a long process because Zoey always also insisted to wash her long hair. Mira would eventually join them in the bathroom after she sorted out the bedroom situation—putting things in the laundry, cleaning up the toys, getting her or Rumi’s room ready to sleep in. Then she would step in the shower and take care of Zoey in almost the same way as Zoey did Rumi.
Then, they will all tumble into bed together. And it is only then that Mira would ask the questions. How she was feeling, did anything hurt, was she okay. And Rumi would be pliant and honest to her. Zoey would hug her tight from behind, supplying her own set of answers, and would repeat the questions back to Mira.
But for now—for now, they doze. And it was them. It was her, it was Zoey, and it was Mira.
At home.
Rumi would never want to be anywhere else.