Archive of Our Own

Rumi's fingers twitched impatiently against the keyboard. Once again, she smashed backspace, wiping the reply field clean of her politely-worded "go fuck yourself".

The caret blinked patiently while Rumi collected her thoughts. Yes, she was annoyed. A perfectly normal response to extra work being flung in her direction at the last minute, especially after her remaining colleagues had clocked out for the night.

But her body didn't quite get the memo: her pulse ticked a little too fast, her jaw a little too tight.

She glanced at the calendar on the wall, politely avoiding eye-contact with the 'firefighter of the month' posed alluringly against a flaming red truck. The 20th.

Rumi looked back to her emails. Would she be this bent out of shape had it not been sent from her division's marketing lead? The sneering face of the other alpha beamed out at her from the tiny profile icon in her inbox. Something deep in Rumi's stomach snarled in petty indignation at the thought of a rival — a competitor.

Okay, maybe her rut might be influencing her decision-making.

Rumi read the request once again, trying to imagine how it might sound had it come from her omega product manager. Rumi jolted, as the idea hit a different part of her rut-brain. She shuffled in her chair and tugged up her pant leg to make room for the thought.

Maybe she shouldn't be thinking of that right now either.

There was a good reason she'd opted to work the graveyard shifts during her… sensitive period. She didn't need to create more problems for herself than the one already nestled in her inbox.

Rumi settled for reading with the cool, impartial voice of her beta lab manager, as she muttered back the demands.

"Gather data points… early feedback on the prototype… valuable insight… agile approach… pivot to market demand."

Rumi blew out a sigh. Still bullshit, but whatever. She could throw them a bone. And when the data came back useless, at least she could toss it straight back in marketing's angular, jeering face.

Swallowing her pride, Rumi hit a thumbs-up to the offending email and closed out her computer for the night.

Rumi regretted her decision immediately. The samples weren't ready. Not even close.

She slid the palette out of its rack in the fridge and set it gingerly onto the workbench. Ordinarily for testing, the scents were actually set into candle wax. It allowed for more naturalistic evaluation, but more importantly, helped identify contaminants which would make them unsuitable for a quality-assured product.

Not that Rumi exactly gave a fuck about quality-assured products right at that moment in time.

She grumbled for a moment about whoever on the day shift hadn't started setting the samples. With reluctance, she acknowledged they were likely also a victim of corporate email warfare.

Rumi scanned down the list of numbered vials, counting them against the prosaic names on the laminated sheet. Winter fresh, one of the vials read. Faith in floral, another claimed.

Rumi blew a loose strand of hair from her eyes. She was long beyond finding the incomprehensible names surprising, or even amusing. Even still, Wildest fantasy caught her eye. That was at least a level 7 on Rumi's abstraction chart of questionable scent names.

Curious, she slipped the vial out of its slot, halfway through twisting the cap before she paused to double-check the chart. An aphrodisiac, supposedly.

Rumi certainly didn't need any help with that right now.

Instead, she uncapped another vial, Mother's love, and one inadvisably deep inhale later, found herself braced against the side of the bench, her brain swimming with bittersweet memories. After she collected herself, Rumi peered at the chart. Nostalgia, the intended effects column cheerfully proclaimed.

Alright, so at least she knew this batch was still potent. But these samples weren't exactly in an ideal state to be tested. And without asking her participant to stay several hours late while Rumi poured over a vat of molten wax, the supposedly urgent testing wasn't gonna happen.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. Actually, there might not be time for any extra testing at all, even if she swatched them straight from the vial.

Rumi peeled off her gloves and goggles, and exited the lab.

As she padded down the corridor towards the testing cubicles, she found herself preening: smoothing back her braided hair and straightening her shirt collar. She groused to herself, indignant at the effortless power her hormones wielded over her rational mind on days like this.

Rumi rapped on the door with her knuckles, consciously resisting the urge to straighten out the sleeve of her lab coat.

"Come in?"

Rumi's pulse spiked at the timbre of the voice on the other side of the door. She depressed the door-handle just slightly, before having the presence of mind to check the participant's information listed out on her clipboard.

Beta.

Rumi let out a short breath, before cracking open the door.

Only a beta. This would be fine.

The sentiment was short-lived.

The participant turned to the door, draping herself casually over the back of the chair. Her sleek, ruby hair fanned out across her back, loose strands framing the creamy complexion of her face.

Nobody, Rumi felt, should look this stunning beneath these ugly fluorescent lights.

Something in Rumi's mind poked at her, something she was forgetting. But nevertheless, she found herself floating — trapped in the soft, hooded gaze of the participant's deep, dark eyes.

A breathy huff, something like a laugh, drifted across Rumi's senses, not quite making traction in Rumi's rational mind.

"Everything… okay?"

Unobstructed by the door, the participant's voice hit even harder; the low notes anchored in space to a pair of rounded lips — glossy and perfectly toned to compliment her hair, and—

"Oh." Rumi jerked, her brain finally wrestling back control from her howling instincts. "Sorry to interrupt you."

Rumi snapped her gaze back down to the clipboard, clutching it like it might shield her from her intrusive thoughts.

Against all odds, Rumi continued. "Um… our market excellence team felt this was an opportunity to enhance our upcoming product line by utilizing early insight—"

Rumi paused in the middle of reeling off the explanation. Part of her was grateful she had read that email a dozen times over; the rest of her was mortified at the corporate nonsense spilling out of her mouth.

"Sorry… Basically, if you're able to stay a little longer, there's a few more tests I'd like to run." Rumi tried, clutching back her image. "You'd be compensated for the overtime, of course."

The participant laughed again, and Rumi became hurriedly engrossed in the pages on her clipboard.

"Compensation sounds good, I've got nowhere to be."

In her peripheral vision, Rumi saw the participant turn back to the desk. She stacked a few of the sample candles into one of the racks and nudged it towards Rumi.

"I'm finished with these ones, by the way."

"Oh—" Rumi cleared her throat. "Okay, I'll take these ones back. How long do you need for the rest?"

The participant shook out her wrist and checked the time.

"Twenty minutes should do it."

Her watch was a delicate, golden thing, draped over her slender wrist like it had found its place in the universe. The face shimmered even under the hideous lighting, and reminded Rumi of the warm tones of the participant's glasses.

Rumi glanced up.

She shouldn't have. The participant's eyes snapped to Rumi instantly, as though sensing the weight of her gaze. The participant's lashes eased down, softening her stare, before the edges of her eyes pinched in an esoteric smile.

"I like to take my time."

Rumi's throat flexed as she tried, and failed, to swallow.

After a beat too long, Rumi still couldn't form a response. Instead, she lurched forward, clutching the rack off the desk so abruptly that the glass jars rattled in protest between her hands.

"Good!" Rumi choked, already pivoting towards the door.

Hands full, she registered the problem a moment too late — something that was becoming a bit of a pattern tonight.

Rumi didn't so much hear the scrape of a chair behind her, but felt it. The vibration agitating Rumi's nerves as though she were a wire stretched too taut.

"Let me get that."

The voice twanged something low in Rumi's stomach. She turned to her right just as the participant slipped behind Rumi to the left.

By the time Rumi caught up to what had happened, spinning back around, the participant was already waiting, patiently holding the door.

If Rumi had been lucid, perhaps she would have registered the cruel trick the universe was playing on her. It wasn't enough to have to stay late on a Friday night. Not enough to be fighting a losing battle against her rut, or to have to facilitate research — which, by the way, was not in her job description.

No, it wasn't enough that this beta was fucking gorgeous, or built like she had been plucked straight off a red carpet. It wasn't even enough that she was tall, squared up with an effortless aura that made every single tier of Rumi's consciousness want to submit without question.

No, apparently none of that was enough. Because here she was, head tipped and smile all crooked. Waiting. A gentleman and a rogue, all rolled into one.

Anything Rumi meant to say died before it even hit her tongue.

Putting all her effort into puppeting her limbs, she marched out of the room without a word. Mortifying in its own way, she supposed, but compared with the dozens of entirely inappropriate thoughts fighting to be voiced, Rumi felt it had been the best available outcome.

Rumi didn't recall dumping the samples back in the lab. She didn't recall sprinting across the facility to the 'Executive' bathrooms. She barely recalled throwing the lock, although the sharp slam of the door still echoed distantly in the back of her mind.

Rumi yanked at the faucet, yelping when it immediately scalded her hands. Heat was the last thing she needed. Several facefuls of cold water did nothing but smudge her eyeliner, though she felt slightly better for the effort. A salty taste on her lips confirmed she'd been sweating as much as she'd suspected. Maybe it had been better not to know. After a more thorough rinse and dry, Rumi felt no less shaken. But fidgeting with her hair and adjusting her make-up soothed her mind just a little.

Now for the main problem.

Rumi peeled open her lab coat slowly, surveying the inconvenience straining noticeably along her left pant leg. She slipped her lab coat all the way off, folding it neatly by the sink — more to procrastinate than with any particular reverence.

She emptied her pockets, checking the time as she went. Fifteen minutes. That was… probably generous if she was being honest with herself. Her reflection agreed, shrugging minutely in resignation.

Fifteen minutes to do this.

Rumi's thumbs rimmed the waistband of her slacks.

Fifteen minutes, then one short test.

Rumi untucked her shirt, fingers plucking clumsily at the buttons until it fell open, illuminating a passage of bare skin from her bra right down to her belt.

24 samples, probably less than half an hour.

Rumi whipped the belt off in one smooth motion, tossing it aside.

Although… the participant did mention she likes to be thorough.

Rumi groaned at the implication, popping the button on her pants and sliding down the zipper. The subtle vibration bolted straight through her core.

So maybe an hour, ninety minutes. Then she'd be free.

Rumi's pants hit the floor. After a moment haplessly fumbling with the fly of her boxers, those followed suit, pooling around her ankles.

Ninety minutes, then she'd get off.

She chanced a look at her reflection, its lips quirking with the unspoken joke.

Rumi flinched a little as she finally gripped her cock. Her hand was still cool from splashing her face, but the cold wasn't entirely unwelcome — a refreshing counterpoint to all of the heat crawling against her skin, building for days.

She braced one hand on the counter as she started to move, rolling her hips to slide into her cupped palm.

Ninety minutes to the weekend.

She drew back deeper to take a harsh thrust, faintly registering her own grunt at the exertion, and the burst of excitement that followed.

No more uniform, no more fucking emails.

She throbbed at the thought.

Nothing else to do but ride out her rut however she liked. Alone with her thoughts, and her toys—

Rumi sighed at the idea, too rut-brained to feel shame at the rush of warm attachment she felt to her favorite toy — too hazy to even care that she had a favorite toy.

It was only natural, she decided, brushing aside the reality that she was beating off in a public bathroom.

Why be ashamed of her instincts, her animal drive?

She rewarded herself with a squeeze, sending pleasure sparking along her shaft and scattering at her center.

Maybe this weekend she'd go camping. Yeah. Reconnect with nature. Find her true self — her true alpha.

"Yeah…" Rumi panted, realizing too late that her thoughts had caught on her voice. She glanced up, still pumping her hips as she reoriented in her surroundings.

Fifteen minutes, she reminded herself, before becoming abruptly aware of what awaited her afterwards. Thoughts of glossy red hair, plump lips and sharp eyes.

The embers Rumi had been stoking finally caught, and she felt the alpha in her seize the reigns with a cold rush of adrenaline. She pushed off from the counter, sagging backwards against the wall and swallowing her aching cock with both fists.

The sounds were obscene, slick and sloppy as she pounded her whole length. Tension coiled in her entire body as her cock leaked in anticipation against every stroke.

Rumi didn't even try to keep her imagination in check, the participant at the very forefront of her thoughts. Her desperate mind raced through every act they were doing — every position she would take and take and take. Soft hands and softer lips. Secret depths only Rumi could—

“Fuck!”

Rumi's lungs interrupted in a gasp so harsh it burned in her throat. One ragged inhale, held tight in her chest. Suspended for a moment as the urgency built and built, compressing every sensation until—

Release.

The orgasm hit like a wrecking ball, obliterating everything else from her mind and reforming the whole world around the roaring ache in Rumi's core. Crashes of white-hot pleasure coursed through Rumi's veins, as her body seized and shook.

Rumi couldn't control her cries as each burst shot from her tip, wrenching sharp relief out of her center with every squeeze. She trembled against the wall, unable to tear her eyes open to watch herself paint pretty patterns against the tile with each stream.

Whenever each wave of ecstasy tapered out, she worked herself up once more — furiously, softly, teasing, or smothering — until she was rewarded with another perfect peak. Rumi spilled, wringing herself out in a confluence of instinct and experience. A lot of experience.

When the fog finally began to lift, and she was twitching contentedly against her palm, Rumi let her legs give out. She slid gracelessly to the floor, starting to reign her mind back in.

Rumi looked a mess, she was sure. And that was to say nothing of the bathroom floor: the dark marble painted salaciously with her own creation. Her dick twitched proudly in her hand at the sight.

She'd clean it up, reluctantly. She just needed a moment. There was plenty of time.

She still had fifteen minutes.

Twenty-eight minutes after they'd parted, Rumi found herself back outside the testing suite.

She raised her hand to the door, then paused to steady her breath and double-triple check all her buttons and zips.

Calm was a stretch, but there was a certain tranquility that settled in her bones after handling her… ordeal.

With any luck, Rumi would make it through the next 30-90 minutes without pitching a tent in her pants, and the participant would write off her stilted behavior as plain old social awkwardness.

Rumi could only thank her stars that the participant hadn't been another alpha, or worse, some omega. Anyone but a beta would have smelled her rut from a mile away and hunted her down accordingly.

This was going to be fine.

Rumi knocked, letting herself in when the participant called.

She was reclined in her chair, tapping away on her phone, before turning and leveling Rumi with an enigmatic smile.

"Hi" Rumi tried, "Are you still good to stay a little later?"

"Sure." The participant waited a beat before tilting her head slightly, with another devastating grin. "Did you bring the samples?"

Rumi stared back for a moment, suddenly wishing she had taken the opportunity to call this whole ludicrous affair to a halt.

Rumi grasped for an excuse. "I… Just wanted to clear these away first." She gestured at the samples on the table. "I'll, um… fetch the other samples now."

"Sounds good, doc."

With unsteady hands, Rumi collected the participant's papers and grabbed the remaining rack of candles. This time Rumi even managed a curt nod as the participant held open the door to let her out.

Upon return, she was stood exactly in place, closing the door wordlessly behind them while Rumi set down the tray of vials.

"I'm afraid there's no wax samples available yet for these, so I'll need to swatch each one." Rumi began laying out her equipment, as the participant settled back into her seat.

"That's fine."

"Sorry, please bear with me, I just need to fill out these forms, then we can start." Rumi rushed to scribble out the templates she should definitely have printed in the 28 minutes she spent dealing with her personal problems.

"I'm Mira, by the way."

Rumi looked up, pausing her frantic pen-strokes.

"…Rumi."

The participant — Mira — nodded, that same subtle smile painting her lips without a word.

"So," Mira began again, after a long silence, "what do you do exactly, Rumi?"

Rumi couldn't help a dry laugh. "This, apparently."

Mira huffed, amused, and Rumi tried not to file away the sound or the accompanying pride.

"I'm a chemist, basically." Rumi continued after a minute, falling back on her usual sweeping explanation. "Sometimes it's as easy as tossing two scents together and shaking them up. Sometimes it's months of breaking things down and building them back up for a specific combination. Unfortunately, it's usually the latter."

Rumi finished the forms with a flourish and slid them over the desk. "Are you ready to start?"

Mira took up her pen, with another heartbreaking smile. "Good to go!"

Rumi pulled on her safety goggles and got to work. She dropped a single bead of scent onto a swatch, letting the fluid absorb before holding the card out towards Mira.

When she hesitated, Rumi clarified: "It's safer if you don't touch these. Just in case. I can fetch some tongs if you'd prefer to hold it yourself?"

Mira just laughed, "You're fine, Rumi."

But as she leant in, hovering her face close to the outstretched hand, Rumi began to regret offering her the choice.

Mira, at the least, seemed unperturbed. She began filling out her answers smoothly, checking the swatch a few times before announcing she was done.

As Rumi disposed of the swatch in an airtight container, she found herself relaxing a little. It wasn't exactly comfortable, sitting less than an arm's reach away from Mira with a rut nipping at her heels. But it was getting easier. Slightly easier.

Still, the moment stretched and Rumi felt inclined to fill the silence.

"Um, what about you? What do you do?" Rumi set the container aside and began preparing the next sample.

Mira's eyebrows hitched, and Rumi snapped her attention back to the samples.

"This, apparently."

Rumi paused in the middle of reaching for a vial, a laugh escaping before her mind caught up. She resumed her work.

"Alright, guess I walked into that one."

Mira stretched out a little in her seat, grinning, as usual.

"The real answer is I'm a freelancer. Mainly search and rescue."

"Oh, shit.” Rumi nipped at the liquid in the vial with the tiny pipette built into the lid. "That's cool. Like, coast guard?"

Mira hummed. "Sometimes. Coast guard, the met, mountain rescue. Private clients. Depends on the season.”

"Amazing. So, I mean… You're kind of a hero, right?" Rumi dripped some scent onto the card.

Mira scoffed, for the first time seeming a little bashful.

"It's not all that. The highs are high, but the lows are… not the best. Plenty of people don't want to be found. Others… you wish you hadn't." Mira trailed off, letting her careful words hang for a moment in the air.

Rumi didn't hazard a reply.

"But most of the time, it's honestly just…" Mira laughed this time, breaking the tension. "Stupid. A huge number of missing persons are alphas, you know? The hormones kick in and suddenly everyone believes they're Bear Grylls. You would not believe the places they get stuck following their dicks."

Rumi laughed along, mentally reassessing her weekend plans. She presented another sample to Mira, while trying not to imagine getting caught buck-naked in the woods by an attractive SAR ranger.

"Do you like it?" Rumi prompted, packing away another sample once Mira had finished.

"Yeah, it suits me. It's not for everyone. It's a lot of waiting around, sleeping rough… Well, in my van."

"Lonely?" Rumi froze in the middle of selecting a new vial. "Sorry, I— you don't have to answer that, I don't know why I asked."

Mira regarded her slowly.

"You're fine. It's lonely work." Mira leaned back in her chair, folding her hands politely. "But I don't really get lonely. I like my own company."

Rumi nodded mechanically, breaking eye contact to fidget with her samples.

"Yeah, I get that. One of the best things about this job—" Rumi arranged another swatch of card. "—people leave me alone, for the most part."

Mira grinned as she leaned in to smell the sample in Rumi's outstretched hand, before returning to her paperwork.

"Don't worry, I'll be finished quick as I can."

Rumi blinked. "Oh! I didn't mean—"

She caught herself as she spotted the telltale quirk playing on Mira's lips as she filled out her sheet.

"I don't mind this." Rumi added after a moment, finding it more sincere than she'd expected.

When the moment dragged without a convenient distraction, Rumi scratched around for something to say.

"So how did you get started in search and rescue?"

Mira's brows quirked again and she looked up from the desk.

"Great question." She leaned in to smell the swatch one more time before gesturing it away. "I was recruited, actually."

Rumi packed away the swatch, but didn't start preparing a new one, waiting for Mira to continue.

"I take it you did mandatory service?" Mira looked up at Rumi, a little glint in her eye that Rumi couldn't quite decipher.

"Yeah, of course."

Mira smiled in her own, lopsided way. "Mm, I thought so."

Too late, Rumi caught on. Of course: Mira didn't even know Rumi was alpha. Well. She knew now, at least.

"Well, service for betas is… complicated. To cut a long story short, I probably wouldn't have been drafted. But my scores on the olfactory tests were so abnormally high, I got poached directly into the SAR program."

Rumi straightened up. "So you mean, you're—"

"Don't say it."

"—a super-scenter?"

Mira groaned, rolling her eyes, but smiling at Rumi's enthusiasm all the same.

"I hate that term. But yeah, pretty much".

Rumi just beamed. "Do you ever watch—"

"—No!" Mira cut her off with a laugh. "I don't watch any of those stupid shows. They're all exaggerated, and that's not how any of it works."

"No… don't ruin it." Rumi wailed. "Those are my favorite shows."

Mira broke eye-contact, casting another shy smile at the wall.

"Fine, I enjoy some of them." Her eyes slid back to Rumi, shining with mirth. "That's all you're getting." She folded her arms with mock-finality.

Rumi just shook her head in quiet disbelief, and tried to lock back into her work.

"No wonder they pay you so well for doing these tests. You probably know more about what's in these things than we do." Rumi peered into one of the vials. A nondescript clear liquid. She wondered what it must be like for someone with several orders of magnitude more acuity in their nose.

"Speaking of which," Mira sat forward, more seriousness laced into her voice this time.

Rumi looked up.

Mira spread out her sheets on the table. "You've got a contaminant in these samples, by the way."

Rumi abandoned what she was doing and leaned across. Mira tapped each of her sheets in turn, the same couple of bases listed against every one.

Rumi sighed heavily and let her head hit the desk with a thump.

"Sorry." Mira leaned back, sounding more pleased than apologetic.

"No, I'm sorry." Rumi picked up her head. "Sorry for wasting your time. What a fucking mess." She snapped off her gloves and goggles, resisting the urge to rub her face before she could wash her hands.

"Well, it wasn't a total write-off." Mira leaned forward, propping herself on the desk. A little closer than strictly necessary, Rumi thought. "It's been fun to chat. I might not get lonely, but I can appreciate good company."

Rumi looked up, immediately getting pinned by Mira's toothy grin, and that little sparkle in her eye Rumi had never quite placed.

Slowly, it began to dawn on her.

"Oh god… You're a— And I'm…"

Mira's face gave nothing away.

"You could… You can smell it, right?" Rumi held her gaze, no longer sure which answer she was hoping for.

Mira leaned in a little more, stretching her arm to the back of her chair. She still didn't answer.

Rumi gathered the distinct impression of a prey animal being toyed with by a hungry cub.

"My… Uh, you know." Rumi squirmed.

Mira took pity, resting her chin against her knuckles. "Yeah. Sorry. Rut pheromones aren't exactly subtle for someone with heightened scent. Not even to a beta."

Rumi groaned, feeling her face flush red.

"For the record, if you needed longer than 20 minutes, you only had to ask."

"Fuck." Rumi whined. Mortified didn't even begin to cover it.

Mira only laughed. "You're all good. Just promise me you won't go running off naked into the woods."

"I'm considering it." Rumi sniffled, turning back to the equipment with a half-hearted smile. "Well, there's not much point testing the rest of these. Sorry again for wasting your time."

"Let me get that." Mira circled the other side of the desk towards the door, as Rumi piled everything onto the tray.

"Thanks." Rumi ground out with a sidelong grin as she stepped out. Progress, she thought.

This time Mira followed behind her, close enough in step to occasionally brush shoulders as they walked.

Rumi didn't exactly welcome the silence. Time to think was the last thing she needed.

No.

The last thing she needed was to find herself charmed and enamored with some random participant, who also just-so-happened to be attractive, and funny, and patient, and a fucking superhero on top of everything else.

She needed that like she needed a hole in the head.

"Um," Rumi began intelligently, as they slowed to a halt outside the laboratory.

Mira just smiled again with a tick of her eyebrows.

"Well." Mira rocked forward and back minutely on her feet, glancing away. "My number is on my forms. In case you decide to run off and get lost after all."

Rumi huffed, more from a reprieve in the tension humming between them.

"Or, you know," Mira looked back, pinning Rumi under her gentle gaze. "If you need anything else. I'm no stranger to helping alphas get out of their sticky situations."

Mira winked.

Rumi opened her mouth, but Mira didn't wait for her response.

"Better shoot. Night, Rumi."

Mira stepped back, patting Rumi's bicep once as she parted. If she heard Rumi's soft whimper at the contact, she made no sign of it. Rumi watched her figure disappear down the corridor, the mesmerizing sway of her hips doing nothing to help clear her mind.

Inside, Rumi shuffled around the lab like a zombie, doing the bare minimum she needed to avoid getting chewed out by her colleagues on Monday. She scrubbed her hands. Refrigerated the (useless) samples. Filed a few reports, then organized the research write-ups as best as she could be bothered.

She collected the clipboard last, unclipping the sheets slowly. Mira's name smiled up at her, phone number tucked away underneath an address box marked n/a.

Rumi stared a while longer, before recalling what she'd intended to do. She grabbed a pen and filled out the remainder of the session information, making sure to credit for an entire additional hour.

Still, something tugged at her, and she flipped back to the first page.

Mira had done her a huge favor. Really, it was only fair if Rumi should… follow up. Just to be sure the payment was processed correctly. She waited a few more moments, as though her rational mind might wake up and reveal her plan to be no more than horny, rut-brained nonsense.

When nothing happened, she pulled out her phone, tapping in the number hurriedly, before she could catch herself.

Hey it's Rumi.
(From Scentonics)

Just wanted to

Rumi tapped backspace keenly as she spotted Mira's icon pop up in the corner of the chat. She held her breath as Mira's icon bounced brightly to indicate she was typing.

Omg hi Rumi, it's Mira.
(Also from Scentonics)
Long time no speak, how've you been?

Rumi giggled to herself, instinctively freezing and checking nobody was around the empty lab to see her kick her heels. She paused for a long moment, considering her choices. She pushed her deeply horny thoughts aside, opting for the sensible.

Just wanted to say, let me know on Monday if you get paid the right amount. I know the test kind of went pear-shaped, but I appreciate the favor.

Rumi's pulse spiked as Mira's icon started bobbing immediately.

Oooh, what a gentleman you are
In the throes of your rut, no less.

Rumi squirmed in her seat. The idea of anyone else knowing she was rutting was intoxicating, but Mira of all the people… Her phone buzzed in her hand.

Well, no sweat if the payment flops
I'm sure you can find another way to compensate me ;)

Rumi doubled up with a groan. Her skin prickled with sweat and her stomach tightened.

Lmk when I can cash in that favor too

Fuck.

Rumi's brain flatlined, and she swiped out of the app with a low moan. She needed to get home. She needed to get home now. Rumi packed up quicker than ever before in her life, barely managing a g'night to the security guy on her way out of the building.

As the cool midnight air crashed into her, Rumi felt a little more tethered. The fresh, biting whip of the breeze helping soothe the urgency in her gut.

Still, she stepped briskly, hustling along her usual path between her office and the station. She checked her texts again as she stumbled along, a bad decision for so many reasons, but none of them concerned her in that moment.

Around the time she was pumping thoughts of favors and compensation around her horny little head, Rumi was startled out of her thoughts by a bright light. It flashed twice, then repeated after Rumi made no effort to stop.

Against her better judgement, she turned, shielding her eyes from the headlights until the vehicle pulled up close and dropped her back into the shade. Around the time Rumi should have been preparing to fight for her life, the window rolled down, and a familiar voice called out.

"Need a ride?"

"Is that…" Rumi leaned forward, squinting at the air-freshener dangling from the rearview mirror. Morning dew.

"I get a lot of free samples." Mira smiled, passing her hands over the steering wheel smoothly, as she turned onto another street.

"Isn't that too strong for you?"

"Hmm, it's better than smelling everything around the block. Takes the edge off a little."

After a short silence, Mira cleared her throat. "So, Rumi."

Rumi looked up. Mira met her eye briefly before locking back onto the quiet street ahead of them.

"Where would you like me to take you tonight?"

Rumi blinked. Her mind latched helplessly onto take you, the rut-brain sinking in its teeth and shaking the innuendo.

"Oh, okay. Um, you can drop me at the station if you like."

Mira just smiled. "I meant, we could park up somewhere for a bit." Her eyes slid across to Rumi. "But I can just take you home, if you prefer."

Rumi's brain finally clicked, cursing herself at the overcorrection. She grasped for a more socially acceptable way to say actually, I would prefer sex, please.

"Well then… Take me anywhere you like."

Mira hummed, "Good answer."

Rumi pressed herself deeper into the seat with faint relief and a dawning anticipation.

Before long, the van pulled into an empty lot, hedged to one side with a low wall, crumbling and overgrown with neglect. Rumi peered out of her window, before her attention caught on the sight in front of them.

This wasn't much of an elevation, but enough that the whole city had blown out ahead of them. Bright lights twinkled and drifted in rows, the muted buzz of traffic and life. Speckles that might have been stars needled through the faint amber glow of the night sky.

"Very romantic." Rumi looked over, warmth spreading through her belly as she found her smile mirrored back.

"I like to think so." Mira unbuckled her seatbelt.

Rumi followed suit. "Do you come up here to work?"

"Hmm, live, work. It's all the same, really."

For the first time, Rumi's eye drew towards the narrow gangway between the passenger and driver's seats. She shuffled inward to peer into the darkness.

Beside her, Mira reached behind the console, and a few low lights flipped on, illuminating the back of the van. Tall cabinets flanked each side; there were dozens of compartments, but nothing on the counter aside from some appliances buckled firmly to the wall.

Rumi felt Mira lean in beside her, their shoulders not quite touching, just… close.

Nestled in the center, a raised platform bridged the gap, draped with furnishings and a thick futon.

Rumi swallowed. Slowly, she pulled back. Mira was close; enough that Rumi could feel Mira's breath tickling her skin, raising the hairs on the back of Rumi's neck.

The warm light gilded the fine frames of Mira's glasses, gold flecks of light bathing in her dark eyes. This was how she was meant to be seen, Rumi supposed, as she found herself closing the gap.

The air seemed to thicken as their lips finally touched. A few short tastes, a silent agreement settling between them, as the moment stretched on.

Rumi hummed as they peeled apart, still close enough that their noses could brush as they broke for air. Mira's palm smoothed along Rumi's leg. It was almost a question; her hand falling just shy from where Rumi strained against the fabric.

"Fancy the tour?" If Mira's voice had been alluring before, now it was outright hypnotic. Rumi felt it more than heard, the husky tones rippling across the air between them.

Rumi nodded, nudging the tip of her nose against Mira's, relishing in the light friction sparking on her skin.

Mira took a breath, "After you."

Rumi pushed to her feet, finding herself having to angle her wide shoulders to slide through the gap.

She straightened out, hanging awkwardly in the boxy space where there was room to stand. Behind her, Mira stepped through, nudging Rumi lightly out of the way as she pulled across a curtain, closing off their little den from the rest of the world.

Rumi stepped into her space, hands drifting down to rest on the valley of Mira's waist. Mira turned in her arms, cupping Rumi's neck and pulling her in for a lingering kiss.

Rumi let herself be guided, obeying the gentle press that nudged her backwards onto the bed. Rumi kicked off her shoes as Mira towered over her, fingers smoothing gently over Rumi's hair, careful not to loosen her braid. Rumi tightened her grip on Mira's sides, head gravitating towards her pleated skirt. Rumi's mouth watered at the subtle scent; her hands bunched at the fabric there, dragging it up slowly, savoring.

"Easy, tiger." Mira tipped Rumi's head up with a gentle finger.

Her lips twisted at the edges, amused with Rumi's lust-drunk daze.

"Already told you," Mira slid her hands down Rumi's jaw, over the slope of her neck and rounding the curve of Rumi's broad shoulders. "I like to take my time."

Rumi whined at the thought, leaning in to nuzzle under Mira's top, mouthing at her navel. Mira stroked down Rumi's arms with an appreciative hum.

"Not just for show, are you?" Mira squeezed at Rumi's biceps.

Rumi groaned at the thought of being valued — appraised. Her tongue dipped into Mira's belly button, rewarded with a soft sigh, a breath subtly shaped with Rumi's name.

Slender hands braced on Rumi's shoulders. Rumi reacted without a thought, lifting Mira up and over, until she was straddling Rumi's lap on the mattress. Fingers laced in Rumi's hair, and she tipped back her head in anticipation for the kiss. The moment suspended as Mira paused, taking a moment to set aside her glasses with care. Then her lips found Rumi's without further hesitation, sweeping aside any inhibition.

Rumi pressed in, rising to the challenge set by Mira's hungry tongue. Every clash was punctuated with an indignant throb between Rumi's legs. It must have been obvious, because Mira seemed to read her mind. She spread her knees wider, grinding heat against heat, easily seizing control over the kiss as Rumi fought for breath.

It was too much, too hot. Constricting.

Rumi fumbled at her buttons, one spike of frustration away from scattering them to the floor in a heap of rags. Mira found them first, stripping the shirt methodically, and dismissing it with one flick of her hand.

Rumi felt the pinch of her bra being unhooked and ushered her arms out of the straps without breaking their kiss. Despite best intentions to return the favor, Rumi's hands abandoned peeling up Mira's top — interrupted by an important discovery. Mira finished the job herself as Rumi pawed helplessly at her bare chest — the thin t-shirt whipped off and flung somewhere into the dark.

Mira drew back, slowly, and Rumi dropped her hands, drinking in the sight ahead of her.

It was divinity incarnate, Rumi had thought, the way Mira's hair had coated the dips of her back, draping across her angular frame. But as Rumi drank in this new sight, she found it had been a false prophet. Real magnificence, profound and true, radiated from those sheets of ruby hair poured over the canvas of bare skin before her.

Silky red strands feathered against Mira's collarbone. They beckoned Rumi's gaze across the landscape — carved and undulating, and capped with two rosy peaks. Rumi needed them in her mouth.

Mira moaned, arching her back into the touch. Her nails raked down the expanse of Rumi's back, leaving a trail of electricity crackling against the skin.

When Rumi ignored the polite hands cupping her jaw, Mira gave a slow, deliberate roll of her hips. That got Rumi's attention. She moaned, high and desperate, finally freeing Mira's nipples from torment. Face buried in cleavage, Rumi could only gape as Mira's long, sensual motions sent paralyzing shocks through her center.

Mira took advantage, pushing Rumi flat against the mattress. Rumi blinked up at her, watching and feeling slim hands smoothing across her chest, following the trail of short hairs to where they vanished under her waistband.

But Mira didn't start on her belt straightaway; Rumi craned up, as she felt thumbs trace unfamiliar patterns on her stomach and sides. Faint dark bands, barely visible under the dim lights. Stretch marks. A relic from a growth spurt that had wrenched Rumi through several painful inches and dozens of pounds of muscle before puberty had let her rest.

She opened her mouth to deliver an explanation, but Mira's soft gaze had already found a new target. She shuffled down to straddle Rumi's thighs, before looking up, eyes locked with Rumi's.

"Who's your friend?" Mira teased, that same wolfish grin tugging at her lips as always. She didn't wait for an answer.

Rumi jerked with a needy breath as Mira's hand was suddenly where she wanted it — rubbing soft strokes over the fabric.

Rumi's brain short-circuited on contact, shocking her into action. She bolted upright, clutching at Mira's hips in blind desperation as she scrambled to her knees, groaning as they pressed together just right.

Rumi fucked her tongue into Mira's mouth, a thrill shooting through her at every swipe against that soft tongue. This time it wasn't a battle; Mira was letting her win, beckoning, her mouth wet and warm and filled with promises.

Shifting on their knees, they worked together against their common enemy. Rumi unlatched her belt, as Mira's hands plucked out the button and shimmied her zipper. Rumi thumbed the elastic of her boxers and together they slid down her pants, Rumi shifting her weight to deliver the final kick. She straightened out, kneeling up to Mira's level.

For a moment they just breathed, savoring the suspense buzzing through the air. Mira smiled in her own enigmatic way, eyes twinkling as she leaned in. Mira caught Rumi's lips with a tease of her teeth, pressing forward on her knees until her navel nudged against Rumi's bare erection.

Rumi whined into the crook of Mira's neck, feeling the pulse tick against her lips as she kissed and mouthed at the skin. Mira didn't relent, rocking on her knees, grinding lavishly against the sensitive underbelly of Rumi's cock.

"All this alpha?" Mira rolled her palms against the muscles of Rumi's back, pulling her closer into the sinful rhythm. "Just for me?"

Rumi cursed, jerking reflexively at the sensation that was rapidly melting her brain into a puddle. Mira pulled back, rewarding the chase of Rumi's hips with a warm hand, wrapping and sliding up her length.

"So worked up," Mira's hand gave a squeeze, "over a beta too."

The blood, whatever there was remaining, rushed from Rumi's head, leaving her weak and desperate. She felt herself start to slump into Mira's embrace, dragging them both down onto the mattress.

Mira prowled on top, bearing down over Rumi's head. For a few moments they just kissed, sloppy and lazy, but enough to clench Rumi's stomach with every slide of their tongues. Mira pulled away with a soft laugh, batting away Rumi's hands as she instinctively reached to touch herself.

"So close already, hm? Just from a little attention?" Mira purred, tracing her hands appreciatively across the cuts and hard edges of Rumi's front.

Her hand roamed up Rumi's cock again, teasing and lavishing around the tip until Rumi was writhing and gasping beneath her.

"Mmm, you're all the same." Mira worked her up and down, speeding her strokes to meet the demand urged by Rumi's moans. "So much meat and muscle… And yet here you are. Squirming on your back like a runt."

Rumi cried out definitively, rutting into the touch with a harsh throb, as her hot seed spilled between them.

Mira laughed into Rumi's mouth, teasing just out of reach as Rumi gaped, too lost in sensation to chase the kiss. Rumi jerked, falling to another dizzying wave of pleasure, as Mira milked every last burst from her cock like it was her personal mission.

Once Rumi was coming down, chest still heaving, Mira hummed with satisfaction. "Making such a mess." She drawled, angling back for Rumi to enjoy the view.

Rumi sighed as she took in the sight, the evidence of their work dashed against Mira's front. Mira swiped her thumb through a patch, smearing it over her breast in the process. Rumi watched as she brought her hand to her lips and pointedly cleaned herself off.

"Care to try?"

Rumi didn't need to be asked twice. In a second she was on top, hunting every last drop and gobbling it up. She nipped and kissed her path downwards, following a scent that made her mouth water with anticipation. Her lips touched fabric, and Rumi pined, mouthing against the waistband of the skirt. Beneath her Mira shifted, spreading her thighs in an invitation that Rumi had no intention of declining.

Everything else fell away. Rumi barely registered Mira's laugh as she arched up to unfasten her skirt and help Rumi's fumbling hands wrench it off her legs.

Another day, perhaps Rumi would have taken her time — teased her and basked in the build-up. But right now, impatience won and had her dragging her tongue up the seam of Mira's body, whining as every single one of her senses was saturated with Mira.

"Oh, fuck."

Rumi couldn't look up if she'd tried, Mira's thighs clamping around her head, keeping her right where she was needed. Purring with the thrill of it all, Rumi took long laps, drinking her in and smothering Mira's clit against the strokes of her tongue.

Minutes melted away like seconds as they found a rhythm that had them both moaning with heat. The desperate kick of Mira's hips, met with the relentless greed of Rumi's mouth, ravishing her like a last meal.

Mira's soft cries took on an edge — a crescendo whipping upwards like a storm. Rumi understood to lock in, tensing to hold her tongue firm to Mira's body as she tipped over, grinding and grinding against Rumi's mouth like it was her single tether to the earth.

Rumi's ears were ringing by the time Mira's legs finally let off. She released her grip, but her hips were still rolling into Rumi's mouth, jerking through the aftershocks until she was loose and trembling.

Rumi didn't move right away. Not even close. She took her time cleaning up, feasting through every nip of slick, wringing all the evidence from Mira's swollen lips. Eventually Rumi deigned to answer the polite tug of fingers weaved through her hair, slipping Mira's legs off her shoulders, and crawling up the bed until they lay face-to-face.

Rumi had no resistance left, letting Mira's grateful tongue slide against hers, loose and lazy. Rumi relaxed into it, allowing her weight to bear down until Mira sighed with satisfaction, breaking apart to cast those dark eyes on her with another heartbreaking smile.

"All the way?" Mira barely whispered it, voice rough from singing Rumi's name.

Rumi groaned, painfully aware of her need: tense and hard and currently pinned between them. "Yeah…" she managed, "Fuck… if you want to?"

Mira just huffed with a flutter of her eyes, pressing a wet kiss to the side of Rumi's mouth. "I wouldn't cook a three-course meal just to let it go cold."

Rumi was in no state to process the metaphor. Her mind reached, finding nothing but the urgent throb of her cock, and the warm tingle of her skin against every point of contact.

At her failure to produce a response, Mira mouthed along her jaw, taking the time to nibble at her ear. "Fuck me, Rumi. Now."

Rumi whined.

Mira's hands nudged her shoulders, and Rumi knelt back. Mira slipped from between her legs, gathering up soft furnishings and arranging them into a more workable nest.

"Oh my god," She laughed, turning and prying Rumi's hands away. "Leave your dick alone."

The pout melted off Rumi's face, however, as Mira settled on her back, spreading herself out and open. Seeing her laid out like this — soft and bare and waiting — sent a lance of desire right through Rumi's heart.

In a blink, Rumi was on her, pinning her wrists and gnashing teeth against the expanse of Mira's neck. She rutted their bodies together, the jolt through her body urging her to tear and bite and thrash. Mira swatted at her back in warning, and Rumi recalibrated, pressing an apologetic lick against the teethmarks in her shoulder.

Warm hands dragged Rumi's head up to meet Mira's evergreen smile. "Don't keep me waiting."

Rumi did as she was told.

Scrambling for balance, Rumi arranged herself, settling between Mira's legs and pushing them up until they flanked her chest. Folded, spread wide, ready, just for Rumi. She clenched her eyes shut. Just the thought of it was devastating; a heady wave crashing through her brain and washing away any coherent thought.

She leaned in, bracing herself on one arm, and feeling Mira cross her ankles around Rumi's back. With her spare hand, Rumi gripped her cock, unable to resist a few slow strokes as she moved into position. She keened at the first kiss of her tip against the warmth pooling at Mira's core. Rumi rolled it in lazy circles against Mira's swollen clit, ignoring the huff and the muttered accusations of teasing.

Taking mercy — more on herself than on Mira — Rumi dipped lower to find her target, tracing the slick groove of Mira's body, before finally starting to press in.

"Rumi?"

There was an urgency in her voice that broke through the thick fog. Rumi forced her eyes open, meeting Mira's scandalized expression.

"Not that one, tiger." Amusement laced her voice, still.

Rumi looked down, registering the mistake and hastily repositioning.

"Nng, sorry." Rumi rasped out. "I'm used to—"

Her words melted in her throat as she slipped back where she needed to be, the welcoming heat frying any conscious thought.

Mira just laughed, squeezing her legs around Rumi's back. "I mean… If you wanna."

Rumi's brain rejected that dangerous thought without even fully processing it. "No, no." She panted out. "Oh. You're so…"

Mira pumped her hips, snuffing out Rumi's train of thought, as she slipped inside at last. And just like that, they were in free-fall. Rumi let go, balancing her hands either side of Mira's chest, and surrendering herself to the slow slide.

Mira's body drew her cock inside with a steady pull, walls parting around Rumi's head bit by bit. The heat and pressure hugging around every dip and curve of her length felt soothing and electrifying all at once.

Rumi couldn't even breathe, her chest tightening around a lungful of air, until she was finally hilted and home. She heard Mira's exhale before her own, both of them loosening to adjust to the new connection. Rumi lowered shakily to her elbows, no longer trusting her arms to hold steady.

Mira craned her head down to Rumi's. For a long moment they just panted, sharing warm breath and occasional half-hearted kisses, as they basked in the feeling of being joined. Mira's tongue teased, and Rumi followed, the thought spreading, warm and soft, that Mira was here: beneath her and around her. And Rumi was here: on top, and inside and inside of her.

Rumi groaned. She rolled her hips and Mira hissed in a breath.

"I can't—" Rumi panted, "You're so tight. Fuck, sorry."

"Don't be, you're perfect." Mira set her hands against Rumi's shoulders. "I can feel you everywhere."

Mira unwound her legs, bracing her feet against the bed, spreading even wider. Rumi took the hint and pulled, starting with shallow thrusts that gradually worked them loose until they were finally in a rhythm.

"Good…" Mira breathed, relaxing now they were moving freely. "Ah… I feel incredible."

"Fuck, you do." Rumi murmured, all of her consciousness preoccupied with the delicious slide of their bodies.

That earned her a low laugh, as Mira coiled back around her, sliding her hands greedily along the taut muscles of Rumi's back.

"That's it, big girl. Let me feel you." Mira pressed up, clutching with her arms, and legs, and around every inch of Rumi's cock, before she squeezed.

The sensation tore from Rumi's center all at once, zipping along her spine and her length, before exploding at the tip, dragging out hot bursts of pleasure with each release.

"Sorry—" Rumi gasped out in the brief moments of control between each shudder. "Sorry, I'm—"

Mira pressed a hand over Rumi's mouth, before working her fingers inside at the desperate request of Rumi's tongue. When the orgasm finally let her go, Rumi moaned, long and obscene, finding herself slipping keenly against the silky smooth walls of Mira's body. Their combined efforts less so lubricating, and more dousing them both in heat and slick.

Rumi gave a longer thrust, something in her belly clenching at the primal satisfaction of it. Mira moaned in harmony with her, basking in the depth and the ease of it all. All friction stripped away, and leaving them weightless and loose.

As they built up once more, a familiar ice spiked through Rumi's veins, flushing her system. Suddenly she could breathe a little easier; the ache in her arms melted away. The rush was making her stronger, harder, washing away the fatigue and replacing it with only one thing: need.

"What's—" Mira's arms dropped as Rumi reared back, withdrawing abruptly.

"Behind." Rumi grunted, already lifting Mira's legs like she didn't weigh a thing.

"Fuck yes—" She scrambled over.

Mira was barely into position before Rumi was dragging her back by the hips, positioning herself immediately.

"Steady!" Mira scolded with a laugh. "You're not easy to take, big girl."

Rumi pined at that, hands stroking wide circles over her buttocks and letting her cock slide between Mira's cheeks.

"Mm, you love that don't you?"

Rumi didn't answer, just rolled her hips, savoring the slow tease.

Mira continued: "Kind of an ass guy, aren't we?"

Rumi growled, drawing back to sink her teeth into the smooth skin of Mira's seat. She jerked, laughing and settling on her elbows.

"Alright, alright, just hurry up and fuck me."

Without further delay, Rumi complied. Loose and wet, and spread open to take, Rumi pressed inside. The flood of sensations crashed over her skin, prickling at the fine hairs on her arms with every slow stroke. She worked single-mindedly, each thrust offering something new: speed, angle, pressure, depth. Methodical. Rumi let her instincts drive, as her body reached for something else. Something—

A sharp breath penetrated Rumi's focus, as though she'd been tuned for it. She thrust once more at exactly the same pitch, and Mira hit a high note.

"Yeah—" Mira rasped out, half muffled by the pillow.

Rumi saw her face then, mouth fallen open and brow screwed in concentration. For the first time since they'd met, her expression painted with something other than a sly grin. That was intoxicating.

Rumi tightened her grip on Mira's hips and got to work, pounding with laser focus until Mira was panting and squirming beneath her. Rumi savored every last sensation; the tight cluster of nerves on the underside of her cock dragging and stroking against Mira's most sensitive spots, wringing out cries that played like hymns to Rumi's ear.

"Close, baby—" Mira could barely pant out the words, but Rumi understood.

She chanced one more stroke — two, before she punched back in a final time, filling right to the hilt with not a moment to spare. Mira lost herself right then, clenching around Rumi so hard that it might have hurt if it hadn't been for the hormones pulsing through her veins.

Rumi's fingers dug into Mira's hips as she tipped over the edge, rutting uselessly and rocking both of their bodies together as they held fast. When the first wave wracking Mira's body wore on, Rumi felt her walls start to pulse and squeeze in a rhythm, gripping and milking at Rumi's length over and over, and laving them both in waves of warm pleasure.

As Rumi's haze finally began to lift, a familiar tingle at the base of her cock landed her firmly back into reality. She couldn't stay much longer. Rumi slipped out with some effort, keeping half her length tucked inside as she watched her knot spread and swell automatically, a response to the rhythmic motions of Mira's orgasm.

Mira keened, the guttural distress landing harsh in Rumi's chest. Her body tugged around what was left of Rumi's cock, so snug and alluring that Rumi found herself pressing back in, until the inconvenient intruder nudged bluntly against Mira's entrance.

"No no no, need it Ru. Please…" Mira cried, whining out the last word until it choked around a dry sob.

"Baby," Rumi was panting too, thumbs stroking Mira's hips like it would do anything to placate her. "You're too tight, it won't go—"

"The fuck it won't." Mira growled this time, low and sharp. Dangerous.

For a moment, Rumi thought that was the end of it. Mira said nothing more, just shuffled against the mattress. Just as Rumi was about to announce she was withdrawing, the plan dawned on her. Mira wasn't getting comfortable. She was creating leverage.

Mira pushed, launching her full weight, and forcing Rumi back on her knees. Where Rumi had been pressed politely to her entrance, now she was fully impaled.

For a second, they were both wracked with the shock, before the connection sank in and dragged them both underwater.

"Oh, fuck."

The voice rang out. Rumi didn't know if it was hers or Mira's. It didn't matter. What was even the difference? Their knot pounded. So heavy that it shook their bones, the satisfaction beyond anything either of them could describe.

Mira was on her and around her, the howls and shakes of their shared orgasm barely even registered. Just a drifting tide compared to the oceans of pleasure in their connection. For a time, they were suspended, surrendering consciousness to the smothering warmth of euphoria.

When they finally began floating back to earth, whenever that was, Rumi felt Mira loosen, growing heavy in her arms. Rumi lowered them down as gently as she could, until they were curled front to back against the sheets. Mira fumbled for the blankets and Rumi drew them tight, nesting around her — warm and secure, and still together.

Rumi's breath painted Mira's jaw, as she slipped a hand down, reaching to where the slick pooled between them. Rumi's fingers slid, finding their home and stroking so softly around Mira's swollen clit. Mira sighed out, rolling back her hips in minute circles, the subtle nudge of her tight walls wrapping so completely around the knot. The slow sensations built until Mira clenched around her with a soft moan, drawing another hot spill as Rumi fell with her. It wasn't sharp or strong — just full, warm. Theirs. They rocked together over and over, wringing each other out until they'd nothing left to give.

Rumi licked a line of sweat from Mira's neck as they cuddled up closer. Their hands woven together as Rumi pressed her palm to Mira's belly, indulging herself in dreams of the litter of pups they'd create. Small and sweet, and all their own. The ultimate manifestation of what they'd shared. She sighed, deep and content.

"This okay?" Rumi murmured against her skin.

"Mmm, very okay." Mira sounded equally wrecked. She reached back, drawing Rumi's head closer, nails raking through her hair.

"Feeling compensated?"

Mira barked a laugh, then kept laughing, her body shaking as she tried not to jostle them apart. Rumi giggled too, trying to snuggle closer, squirming to find any more points of contact they could bask against.

Mira hummed, lazy and satisfied. "You're cute, when you're not all knot-headed."

Rumi huffed. "Am I really that bad?"

"No. You're… very sweet. Kinda dumb, but sweet."

"Mhm. Wanna hear something funny?" Rumi nuzzled down Mira's neck. "I was planning to go camping this weekend."

Mira shook with soft laughter again. "Right. Of course you were."

"Would you come get me? If I'd wandered off into the woods with my dick out?"

"Hmmmm." Mira drew out, "Good question. I don't work for free, you know. What's it worth?"

Rumi craned her head, finding those warm eyes twinkling back.

"Name your price."

Mira's smile spread. "Well. My heater just blew out. So I could use a little something to keep me warm at night."

"Who're you calling little?"

Mira barked a laugh, wrenching them a little too hard, and sending a warm reminder of their connection flooding through their bodies.

Once they'd settled, Rumi leaned in. "Maybe we could try it out? Just tonight, see if it suits your needs."

"A little sample?" Mira breathed, drowsy and smiling as she cuddled into the pillows.

"Not little." Rumi settled too, relaxing her face against the slow pulse at Mira's neck. "But yeah."

Mira hummed, "Alright then. Night, little sample."

"Night, lab rat."

Come Monday morning, Rumi found herself still picking the leaves and twigs out of her braid. She could only smile.