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Displayed on the floor-to-ceiling windows of her penthouse were the reflections of the chaotic city lights. As the night fell, the several lamps scattered all over the living area added a gentle warmth. The bustling streets below, watching people walk and cars pass by, entertained her.
Meet Me in Amsterdam by RINI is playing on the turntable, and the gentle sound emanating from the speakers fills every nook and cranny of her haven.
Observing the city life below, the finest wine settles in a glass on her hand. Before she takes a sip, she gently swirls the contents inside.
She was never distracted from the scene in front of her, not even by the loud clicking sound of her front door opening and closing. The gentle step that inches closer to where she is. Her senses were overwhelmed by the alluring aroma of golden honey amber perfume that a specific person wears.
She heard a husky, smooth voice say, "Hi, Gorgeous," as it dried her throat. Behind her, she senses the older one's presence.
"Rumi, would you mind joining me for a drink?"
Mira tears her gaze away from the view to look at her friend, offering her the empty glass that sits on the coffee table.
"I don't. It would be a pleasure to." Rumi gave her a soft, goofy smile, grabbing the glass and pouring herself a drink before she settled down beside Mira.
How Mira adores that. That smile. That same smile Rumi gave from their first encounter. The same thing that warmed her stone-cold heart.
(I'm being consumed deeply)
Saturday nights are always like this; it's already part of their routine. It's the only day they hang in either one's place, drinking and talking with each other. The only time they can just be Rumi and Mira.
"How's your day, Mir?" Rumi broke the silence, her gaze fixed on Mira's as though she were more captivating than the cityscape before them.
"I'm doing great. The drama I've been working on is finally finished, so I'm taking a well-deserved break."
Rumi chuckled, sipping her wine as she uttered, "I can't wait to see it. You look mesmerising whenever you're on screen."
The taller girl stilled in place, staring at Rumi's own unshaken eyes that were filled with pride, warmth, and happiness. All directed to her.
(Inside your dark eyes that reflect me)
All of it was for her. That's when she feels her breath hitch, eyes waver as if they're contemplating whether to maintain eye contact or look away.
Rumi makes her want more. She can't help but want more. More of that eyes-glued-to-her as if Mira's the only one it wants to see. She wants more of Rumi's adoration and attention focused on her.
(My gaze is precarious)
But how can she want more? Can she even want more from her friend? Or is it too much of a desire to be granted?
Mira recalls their initial encounter. The taller one was sweating profusely, the sun was shining, and it was the final semester in junior high.
Her eyes were on the ball as it was pushed up by the setter, checking her timing right before sprinting, jumping and spiking the ball to the other side of the court.
It was an easy win, but Mira was unable to control her strength. The ball struck the ground and bounced straight, striking a passing girl directly on the forehead.
Mira hisses, "Fuck!" as she starts to sprint towards the female who is currently on the ground with a huge red mark on their forehead.
"Hey. Are you okay?" The taller girl kneels beside the fallen one, observing their behaviour—they blink slowly, as though they're attempting to regain consciousness.
"Woah. What's a pretty girl doing in heaven?" the girl said, eyes still blinking as she stares at Mira. A soft, goofy smile plastered on her face.
With red hues painting Mira's cheek, mad at herself for falling with such a cheesy line, the flower blossomed between the two. Both of them understand each other too well, having grown closer, gone through everything together, and wept on each other's shoulders.
And Mira is well aware that if she ever tries to want more, it can all come crashing down in an instant. Mira would rather suffer than lose Rumi forever.
(Before I know it, I'm already half-broken)
"A sweet talker you are, eh?" the red-haired woman chuckled, bringing the glass near her lips. "How was yours, Ru?"
Rumi slumped, her eyes squinting slightly.
"It was hectic. The company keeps on wanting me to partner with a male actor. Auntie is still bothering me, insisting for me to go to the blind dates she arranged."
Rumi groans, a tired huff following. She takes a longer sip of her drink. Letting the alcoholic content smoothly glide down her throat.
(But I have to try)
Mira laughed and said, "Still having it rough with Aunt Celine, huh?" but the idea of Rumi dating someone else made her heart ache. When it should've been her.
"Tell me about it. She's so worried that I won't find someone."
With the gentle tapping of her feet, Mira shifts her attention back to the city light.
"Well, I don't blame her."
Rumi is still, raising her eyebrows and squinting her eyes.
"What do you mean by that, Mir?"
The taller latter chuckled, sensing the dangerous underlying tone in Rumi's voice.
"23 years, Ru. Never once did you introduce someone or even tell your crushes to Aunt Celine. Maybe she thinks nobody wants you."
Rumi gasps at the last line.
"Excuse you, Mira Kang. Everybody wants me. I'm everybody's type."
Mira laughs at the outraged expression on the purple-haired girl's face. In that regard, Rumi is correct. Mira wants her too.
(You make me try every time)
"Sure, sure. But doesn't your company know that you only either do characters with no love interest or a girl love interest instead?"
Mira looks back into Rumi's eyes, examining her friend's face as if it were her first time.
"Yeah. They do, but they're so desperate for the possibility of bigger profit that they're so eager to put their biggest stars together in a drama; not once did they consider the chemistry."
Rumi lets out a sigh and slumps at the backrest of the couch before downing the remaining wine in her glass, tongue licking the side of her lips for any drop.
"Don't let it get to you, Ru. I know that sooner or later, they're going to stop forcing you on straight projects."
(I'm just your shoulder to cry on)
"I know, I know. I just—" Rumi sighsas her gaze shifts from Mira to the ceiling.
"I just wished they stopped trying each year."
Mira huffs, downing her glass in one shot before placing it on the coffee table. She is aware that what she's going to do now will ultimately lead to her own destruction, her downfall, her ruin. Mira is aware that she will be buried deep in the trenches she dug.
She is aware that this will blur lines between them.
But she can't help it. Not when it comes to Rumi.
"Well, how about this then?"
With a defiant sneer on her lips, Mira straddled Rumi's lap, her arms encircling the purple-haired girl's neck.
"M-Mira!"
Rumi's eyes were wide open, she sat upright, head was spinning from the weight of the taller person pressing on her.
"Shh – I have a suggestion, Ru," Mira uttered velvety.
The air becomes more tense. The sound of Rini's Your Ecstasy playing in the background and the warmth on her nape as Mira plays with her hair hypnotise Rumi.
(The scar keeps getting deeper)
"How about to make it easier for you..." Mira raised Rumi's chin with her index finger while maintaining eye contact. "When we're asked for future plans during interviews."
Mira runs her thumb along her bottom lip. With each drag, eyes follow, "We can say that we want to be in a drama together as each other's love interest."
Rumi's eyes were glued to Mira's alluring ones; the playful smirk on the pink-haired one's lips was not helping the spark forming in Rumi's belly.
"Shouldn't be a problem, right? Since we're both two of the hottest actresses at the moment. Your company will follow the scent of profit."
Mira shifted closer to Rumi, pressing her weight harder on the purple-haired body as she leaned to Rumi's ear.
Wind tickled Rumi's ears as Mira whispers, "That also means we don't have to wait every Saturday to do it~."
(Memories dig into me)
Rumi froze at what Mira just said, head already fuzzy with the proximity and the weight. Mira's teasing lips on her ear weren't helping the slightest.
Before the oldest could even properly process it, her hands were already pulling Mira's hips closer and their lips were crashing like ocean waves, in which Mira didn't even hesitate to reciprocate.
"God, Mira, you drive me crazy," Rumi mumbled in between their liplocking; not an ounce of gentle can be seen in their exchange.
(Baby, I don't mind)
"When haven't I?" Mira teases, biting Rumi's lower lip before swiping her tongue on it.
Rumi groaned, sitting up better to have their bodies flushed, like the inch of space was offensive. Tongues already colliding, the sound of their quick breaths, clothes shuffling in friction.
This part was Mira's favourite during their Saturday nights. The warmth of Rumi covering her body, her scent that fills Mira's head, clouding her judgement until it's reduced with the thought of Rumi.
Mira always indulges herself during these times, having Rumi close, body to body, lips to lips. It was a way for them to destress.
The roughness of the kiss was making her lightheaded, eyes unfocused, but the sensation of the burning want emanating from Rumi was something Mira thrived for.
(As long as you're here, it's so fine)
"Ah!" Mira moaned against her lips. The sudden movement of Rumi's hips made the throbbing length the older one is housing brush against her core, making its presence known.
The grip of Rumi's hands on her hips grounded her, steadying her movements as she pressed Mira's weight down. The movement of her hips was slow at first, feeling the heat that travels to her spine whenever the tip hits her clit.
The warmth on her belly ignites; shallow breaths escape her lips as her hands tangle in Rumi's hair, pulling her closer as though the space between them were unbearable.
"Fuck, Rumi. Please."
She doesn't even know what exactly she was begging for. But warm hands that were guiding the movement of her hips slide up, untangling the pretty knot of her robe. As though it knows.
Mira lets it slip down her shoulder, leaving herself completely bare. Never did she once bother dressing whenever Saturday comes.
She just hides it with her robe. Only for Rumi to unwrap, only for Rumi to see.
"You're so breathtaking, Mira."
Rumi breathes as she ghosts her lips on the skin underneath Mira's jaw. Pressing a slow kiss. Another followed, lower, each one lingering longer than the last.
(It doesn't matter if I'm completely ruined)
Her mouth found the spot that always made Mira's pulse quicken, soothing the area with her tongue before sealing her mouth on the curve of her neck. The suction was hungry, unrelenting. Her unusually sharp teeth caught skin, sinking a little, which pulled a whimper from Mira.
"R-rumi!" Mira pants, her nails scraping the purple-haired one's nape as Rumi's tongue soothes the addicting ache left on Mira's neck.
The spot throbbed when Rumi pulled up. Tender and burning. The bruised skin only urged her even more, leaning in to cover Mira's neck with it. The sensation hit the taller one like a wave, a delicious ache that blurred pain and pleasure until she could no longer tell the difference.
Rumi is addicting, and Mira wants more.
She wants to drown herself with nothing but Rumi.
The heat builds inside of her even more; the slow rhythm becomes bolder, chasing the spark that burns every time their bodies align.
"Tell me what you want, pretty girl," Rumi mumbled, lips still giving slow kisses on the marks she left. Admiring the work she had done. Mira whined, hands tugging Rumi's hair to meet her eye to eye. Shallow breaths were all Rumi could hear from the pink-haired.
"Rumi, use me," Mira said, her voice heavy in slick want.
(Be a little selfish, baby)
"Ruin me."
The look in Mira's eyes was something Rumi cannot comprehend. The way she said it was smooth, like it was something easy to say. As though it didn't make Rumi want to devote.
(If you want to, hurt me)
And who was she to refuse it? She was a sinner that's desperate for forgiveness. The collision of their lips was as needy as the first one. Fighting, trying to dominate one another.
Mira shivered when she felt Rumi's hand slide up her side, fingers lingering on her skin before curving to cup her breast. Her breath caught as Rumi squeezed gently, testing, asking if she was sure, then firmer when Mira answered by arching her back into the older's touch.
Everything simultaneously happening overwhelms and overstimulates Mira in a good way. Their lip-locking, the drag of their hips pressing together, and the constant teasing on her sensitive nipples was what she wanted.
The heat building in her belly keeps rising, begging to be let go, but she can't. She needs it to push her to the edge. She needs it inside of her.
"R-Rumi. Need you." Mira pants, her forehead resting on the older's own. Their lips swollen, "Inside me, pl-please."
('Cause you're the only one
Who's gonna give me what I need)
"You have me each Saturday, yet you're still this needy for me, pretty girl?"
Rumi chuckled, a smug smile on her lips earning her a smack on the shoulder. Mira groaned, pressing harder on the length.
"Can never get enough of you."
Rumi lets out a soft laugh, laying Mira down on the sofa as she hovers on top of the pink-haired latter.
(I'm better, you'll see)
"Getting addicted to our setup, darling?"
The purple-haired woman raised her brow, challenging Mira as her hands unbuttoned the polo that's covering her own body, tossing it somewhere. Hands were all over Rumi's abdomen, caressing the lines of her stomach.
"Maybe. Aren't you?" Mira challenges back, raising a brow. The look in Rumi's eyes darkens.
"Maybe." The sound of her voice went lower, deeper, huskier, letting the fire blaze all over Mira's body. Her eyes followed the movement of tattooed hands unbuckling the belt that cages what Mira needs.
A whine escaped Mira's lips, pleading for Rumi to be quicker.
"So impatient."
The belt was undone. Mira's shaking hands reach beneath the waistband, tugging it down.
The boxers slid over her hips, and then it was freed, heavy and hard, no longer straining against the confines that held her back. The length pulsed with need. Pre-cum rushing down from her tip.
"Guess I'm not the only impatient one here."
Rumi scoffed at the teasing. Her warm hands caressing her thighs, spreading Mira's legs wide, letting the heavy heat of her settle right where Mira ached the most.
It was payback.
Mira knows.
She knows that Rumi knows.
Rumi knows it wasn't enough. It was maddening how the slow slide of the length brush on her sensitive nerves. Mira whimpers, trying to shift her hips to have it where she wants it. However, the firm grip Rumi had on her hips kept her in place, dragging the length along her slick folds again, slow and deliberate.
The movement was torture; it provided pleasure but was never meant for satisfaction. Meant to ruin her, to drive her to the edge. The sharp ache of wanting more twisted low in her belly.
"Please—" The word slipped out, raw and desperate. Yet Rumi's answer is to lean in, wrapping her tongue on Mira's exposed peak.
How cruel it is to be given what you ask for but be denied the other.
Or maybe Mira is too greedy.
(I'll fill you up every day, baby)
Mira's body tensed with every slow drag, every cruel brush that wasn't enough. She clenched on nothing, trembling, the plea on her lips coming out as a prayer.
"Rumi, please." The desperation seeps into Mira's voice. The flicks of tongue on her nipple brought waves of pleasure but never enough.
"Begging looks good on you, Mira," the purple-haired woman whispered dangerously low, matching the pace of her hips.
And then, she gave in.
She sank into her inch by inch. The amount of wetness was enough to slip the length inside slowly. The push was controlled, precise, and calculated. Just the right tension to break her.
The air is thick, and the movement is painfully slow. The length wrung gasps from her lips for its slow drive.
The painful teasing earned a needy complaint. Mira's eyes shut closed. "Nngh—don't tease."
Rumi's hips snapped against hers. The sudden swift motion of burying the cock in depths existed for Rumi. No warning was given, and it almost made Mira see stars.
She clenched around the throbbing length, coating it more with her slick.
"Oh god—so full of you," Mira rasped. Nails digging into Rumi's forearms, needing the support for the harsh intrusion.
(I want you to come to me anytime, yeah)
Mira is forever grateful for Saturdays. The only day in the week where she can feel this stretch, this fullness, this heat. She might really be addicted.
Can you blame her?
This was the only time she's allowed to want Rumi.
The only time she can ask for more.
The only time begging doesn't blur the lines.
And with the proposal she offered, as long as Rumi agrees, Mira will be a little bit more greedy.
(Only your existence
Will be my one and only salvation)
Mira pulled Rumi flushed down, wrapping her arms around her neck, her legs doing the same thing on her waist. The action sheathing the cock deeper inside.
"M-move," Mira groaned, clenching deliciously around the shaft. Hips desperate as it rolls, chasing friction.
Rumi leaned in, hands gripping her thighs. She drew back, only to drive her hips forward, harder this time. The pink-haired's body arched to meet Rumi's, desperate for more.
"You're making it so easy to ruin you, Mir."
Mira gasps, nails clutching on Rumi's back, creating lines as each thrust was a shockwave, the rhythm growing rougher, faster, until the world blurred to nothing. The sound of their ragged breaths was muffled as Mira kissed her, desperate, every movement a mixture of hunger and surrender.
(One, two, three, you can count on me)
Their movements turned frantic, driven by all the hunger they'd held back. The rhythm was desperate, unrestrained, and brutal. Each sound that left her lips was swallowed by Rumi's mouth.
She tightens her grip on Mira's thighs, leaving large handprint marks on them. The sound of their skin colliding whenever Rumi pulls out. The tip was left inside before it came crashing back down with a hard smack from their hips, perfectly hitting Mira's sensitive spot.
"Ho-holy fuck!" Mira moaned, her eyes rolling back, drool slipping down the side of her lips as she dug her nails into Rumi's back.
"God, look at you, Mira. All messed up because of me."
Rumi groaned, letting the vibrations be swallowed by Mira. Every movement of her hips tears a cry from her throat. Their combined juices seeping down Mira's thighs. Mira clawed on her back, urging her to go faster, and Rumi obeyed, driving into her with reckless hunger.
"Mmm— cumming!"
Rumi shifts her hips, angling herself better, slamming into her roughly, abusing the spot that makes her legs shake. One hand travelled low, with a mission of driving Mira to the edge, moving in a circular motion on the sensitive bundle of nerves.
Rumi rammed inside of her with aggressiveness, the tension on her belly tightening, becoming unbearable. The trembling starts as she struggles to claw properly on the older one's back.
"Oh god!" the word slipped out as a cry, back arching as her whole body shook; pleasure tore through her when she felt teeth sinking into her neck.
Rumi followed almost instantly, a hoarse groan spilling from her lips as she clutched Mira close, painting her insides with white.
(One, two, three, I got all you need)
But the pace and the rubbing never slowed down, earning a desperate whine from the pink-hair.
"R-Rumi, no. I c-can't." Mira panted, hands clutching around Rumi tightly, betraying the words she let hang. The sensitivity took over her body as the heat that was already let go rose up again, faster this time.
"You can do one more, darling. I know you can." The purple-haired woman whispered, consistent with the speed of her movements, slick still covering their genitals, the sound of their collision filling their ears.
"Be a good girl, Mira. Give me one more," Rumi groaned dangerously low as Mira squirmed, overwhelmed with the constant thrusting.
"N-noo, please—Ah!"
Mira shudders, clawing on Rumi's back, leaving new marks. Her back arched violently, eyes rolling back as another climax ripped through her.
"Oh god—" The words dissolved into moans and pants, body still trembling, clutching the older woman tight.
"There we go, what a good girl." Rumi placed a kiss on her forehead, soothingly rubbing Mira's arms.
Movements slowing down, her lips busy leaving slow kisses all over Mira's jaw. Neither spoke, but neither let go—both bathing in the warmth of skin pressed to skin. The sound of their breaths and pounding hearts roams around the room.
"Let's do it."
('Cause you're the only one
Who's gonna give me what I need)
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"Let's all welcome the hottest trending love team, Ryu Rumi and Kang Mira!"
Claps and screams erupted in the cramped cinema, styled for a press conference. Two figures emerged to the side, one arm hooked to the other, gently being guided by the older figure to the main stage.
Free hands waving to the audience that contains fans both from their love team and solo careers. They both sat on the couch, still engaged in greeting their fans. Across from them was the host for today's press con, whom they greeted, slightly bowing to show respect.
"Good evening, girls! Thank you so much for being here," the host greeted.
"The pleasure is ours," Rumi greeted back on the mic, a smile painted on her face. Mira sat next to her, hand already clutching the microphone.
"Wow wow. The two of you really shocked the whole of Korea when you mentioned wanting to be each other's love interest. How does it feel now that you're working on a project together?"
The host asked without hesitation, gaze shifting from Rumi to Mira.
"Well, it's actually surreal. It's very exciting, especially for me to work with Rumi unnie here," Mira answered, looking directly at Rumi.
"I wasn't really expecting much when I mentioned my desire to be Ryu Rumi's love interest in a drama. It was really a shocker when my manager informed me about the offer. I accepted it without even reading the script."
The host laughed, a teasing smile on your lips.
"You must really like Rumi-ssi, Mira-ssi. How was working with Mira as a love interest, Rumi-ssi?"
Rumi cleared her throat. "She was very pleasant to work with, but she tends to tease me every time during the set."
Mira scoffed, chuckling at the response. Mischievousness running in her veins.
She wants to stir something up, maybe get the older woman a little flustered. "Oh please, unnie, you like it when I bother you. I can see you controlling your smile each time."
Mira stilled when she saw that brow lift, a small smirk on Rumi's lips.
"Love it actually Mira-yah, bother me more, please."
Mira shoved Rumi slightly, earning a soft giggle from the latter.
"You two seemed really close. The chemistry is amazing. Say, those bruises on your neck, Mira-ssi, are they part of the scenes?"
(Even the festering wounds that never healed, That's okay)
Oh, what a perfect revenge that is. To be asked of the marks covering her neck.
"I won't answer that. Think what you want about these traces. The truth is only for me and them."
She sends a wink to the audience, erupting loud gasps and discussion, with fans already making theories online.
The second she turned, the shocked gaze of Rumi greeted her eyes, pulling a wicked smile as she mouthed 'Thank you' subtly.
(It's okay, because they're all your traces, So thank you)
────────────── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──────────────
Raindrops trailed down the glass in wandering paths, their faint tapping echoes a warm tune, accompanying yet another custom vinyl spinning on the turntable. The room is illuminated by the candles scattered all over; the faint scent of eucalyptus and vanilla bean travels in each corner.
The sound of her penthouse door opening and closing shut distracts her from her routine of watching the buzzing streets way below her floor. Not even giving her time to acknowledge the person, they've already sat themselves down, pouring their usual glass of wine and taking a sip.
"What got you like that, hot stuff?"
Not even giving her a glance, eyes glued to the people going on about their day.
(Broken and shattered)
"Auntie Celine." Rumi let out a frustrated sigh, hand running through her hair.
"I got the company off my back with the straight project, but Aunt keeps on sending me to blind dates, and most of the girls care about the money and the bragging rights of dating an actress."
Rumi pinches the bridge of her nose, sharp exhalations coming out of her mouth.
"No difference today. The worst one, if I'm being completely honest. Tried to kiss me in the middle of the restaurant with her phone held up high."
(These fragmented pieces of my heart)
The frustration lay bare for Mira to see, but her ears were ringing, focused solely on the detail about someone else trying to kiss Rumi.
The image tugs an ache on her heart; it hurts to think about it. Questions about why couldn't it be her?
"Where does she even find those ladies, and why do they get more deranged each time?" Rumi's voice wavered on the edge, raw with frustration and disbelief. She downed the wine like a shot of tequila.
"Seriously. They keep on nudging my leg under the table too, probably testing if the rumours are true." Her words came out flat, stripped of patience from the ridiculous people she met in a span of weeks.
"Well, it is true. Only close family and you know, though." An empty laugh followed, as if Rumi convincing herself would make the situation light.
(Even if they stab me as I hold them close)
Mira didn't find it amusing though, downing her whole glass of wine before straddling Rumi's lap in a swift motion. Startling the older girl.
"Forget about them, Rumi." Mira's voice slipped out low and velvety, the air shifting between them. Arms were instantly wrapped into their rightful place, as if they remembered where they should be.
Mira's around Rumi's neck.
Rumi's around Mira's waist.
The warmth of Mira's breath brushing, ghosting on her lips. Eyes heavy-lidded, the sly tilt of her gaze entranced Rumi.
(I'll still embrace you)
Neither moved, studying each other in silence, the distance between them collapsing with each minute. The silence stretched, thick and fragile, yet neither dared to look away. Captivated by each other.
The melody of Jennie's Damn Right fills the room, adding fire to the spark that's already rising with each breath they take. Mira's gaze lingers on the curve of her mouth, eyes darken, and yet Rumi drank her in the same way, desperate and slow.
(Time that has stopped)
Another Saturday, another day of desperately wanting Rumi, another day of fooling herself from the reality of her feelings.
Mira was brilliant, logical, and ruthless in every corner of her life. She was praised for her sharp thinking and logical solutions. She knows when to cut losses, when to walk away.
She wasn't stupid. God, she wished she were. That would make this situation easier to understand. Yet she keeps on letting this happen, aware of the fall she created, aware of the money she keeps on betting on a losing game.
This was a situation she created, blurring lines between friends, a tragedy that will pull her in the trenches and bury her alive.
(A repeating tragedy)
But when the fragile silence broke, their mouths met; it was chaos—hard, hungry, a clash that stole their breath. Mira's hands tug the fabric of Rumi's polo, anchoring herself, pulling her close, chest to chest. The space was nonexistent between them.
They broke only long enough to gasp for air, lips swollen, breath ragged, before crashing back together like they couldn't stand the distance. The kiss was teeth, heat, and muffled moans, dizzying and reckless. Rumi groaned into her mouth when her hips began to move, pressing hard on the length hidden underneath her pants.
Rumi tore her lips from Mira's chest, heaving—his breath ragged against her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw. Then she dived down—mouth hot against Mira's throat, nipping, sucking, and soothing. Leaving trails of fire across her skin. Replacing the old ones the pink-haired latter proudly showed.
"Nngh—" the moan vibrated out of Mira's lips, raw and unsteady, head tipping back to give Rumi more room.
She lavishes the feeling of having Rumi's mouth latched on her skin, her marking spread out on every corner of Mira's body.
And how she wouldn't have it in any other way. Drunk on the way Rumi runs her tongue around, savouring the taste of Mira.
(Baby, I don't mind)
The older girl then shifts their positions, fully laying Mira down on the cushion without tearing off her lips on the skin, sinking her teeth.
"A-ah!" Mira hissed, the pain mixed with pleasure shot through her body. The grip on Rumi's shirt tightens while the knot of her robe slips, leaving her bare and exposed. Warm hands were everywhere, rough, desperate, squeezing, kneading. Playing with her nipples using her thumb, rubbing them in circles.
When Rumi finally let her neck go, the older girl pulled back, eyes travelling from her face to her body. Engraving the beauty that was laid there for her to devour.
"Mmm—Rumi, please." The sound of her voice was whiny, almost a plea, laced with need.
"Tell me what you need, Darling," Rumi rasped, hands torturing Mira in a way, tugging on the sensitive bud, sending shockwaves through her body.
"Hhaa—you, your mouth—mmgh all over me." Mira trembled, her own hands having a set of mind of their own, unbuttoning the polo. The need for skin-to-skin was burning her body.
"Good girl." The low rumble of Rumi's voice drew a gush from Mira's lower region, dripping down her buttocks; a helpless "mmm—" escaped her lips.
(As long as I'm with you, it's so fine)
The moment Rumi's lips latched on her breast, sucking and flickering the bud, tore a sharp moan from the taller girl.
"Ooh— fuck!" Her voice was shaky when her tongue circled, rolling slow but relentlessly. Mira's fingers grip her hair, pulling hard, urging. Her chest arching, desperate, needy, wanting her mouth to be closer.
Her breath breaks, ragged from the sudden jolt of electricity every time Rumi's teeth grazed the bud. Hips rolling, a proof of evident need for friction, the need to ease the heat of her throbbing pussy.
By the time Rumi tore her mouth from her chest, lips attaching in between the valley of breasts, Mira's legs were wide open. Tattooed hands caressing her thighs, slow but sure, avoiding the aching core that's leaking with want.
The purple-haired sank lower, lips burning a trail down Mira's stomach, eyes glued to her own. Her breath stuttered with anticipation, tightening every muscle.
(It doesn't matter if I'm completely ruined)
The heat continues to grow when the slow kiss travels to her inner thighs, close yet so far to where she needs her. Each kiss is slow, wet, and deliberate. Mira squirms, hands tugging on the purple hair, trying to ground herself from the wait. Every inch of skin Rumi covered made her tremble, moans spilling in helpless bursts.
Her soft ones became sharper when Rumi nipped at the tender skin, mouth pressing hot, sucking until it marked the inside of her thigh. God, Mira wanted to wipe off the smug smirk on Rumi's face, but the damn girl blew air to her already leaking core.
Her breath hovered maddeningly close to where Mira needed her most. Eyes deliberate, the contact never cut off.
Mira lifts her hips in a desperate plea, the whimpers high and shaky, "Please—please, don't tease—"
(Be a little selfish, baby)
The words dissolved into another moan when Rumi ignored her cries, dragging her mouth higher only to bite down gently at the very edge of her thigh. Then, finally, she gave in. Her tongue pressing against her slick heat. The first stroke had her crying out, the sound raw and unrestrained.
"Ah! Rumi!" Her back arched, thighs trembling around her head, each movement of his mouth tearing frantic moans from her throat.
"Your taste is so addicting, pretty girl," the older one mumbled, mouth full of Mira's cunt.
Rumi's eyes never left hers, tongue dragging low, going up to her clit, sucking around it. The firm grip on her hair pulled, hips desperate and moving. Which Rumi took as a challenge, mouth latched on Mira's clit, sucking and swirling as she laps Mira, as though she has never eaten before.
Every groan Rumi let out against her only fuelled her own sounds. Rumi's muffled growls, her broken cries, and the room filled with the desperate rhythm of her unravelling beneath her tongue.
(If you want to, hurt me)
The flicker of each lick drove her higher, moans growing louder and sharper. "Ahh, fuck—ahh!"
Mira's eyes rolled back, her chest arching, thighs clamping around Rumi's head as the wave of climax crashed. A long, shattered cry escaped her lips; the echoes of release still trembled on her legs.
('Cause you're the only one
Who's gonna give me what I need)
Yet, Rumi's tongue was relentless, cleaning the release dripping down, licking her clean, spotless. The soft hum the purple-hair released vibrated all throughouther body, igniting the same heat on her belly.
"Such a sweet taste for a tangy person." The deliberate swipe of Rumi's tongue on her lower lip didn't help the ache settling on her cunt again.
(I'm better, you'll see)
"Rum—"
Mira's calls were cut off when hands gripped her shoulder, spinning her around; a startled gasp broke from her lips when Rumi forced her onto all fours. The tattooed hand slid down her spine, pressing her down, while the other clutched her hip, keeping her pinned exactly where she wants her.
The heat of the hands left her skin, hearing the same rustling and shuffle of clothes and pants being removed. Shallow breaths escape her lips from anticipation of intrusion. The heat of the tip settled on her entrance, sinking the throbbing length inch by inch, stealing her breath.
"Ohh god—" Her voice pitched high, the girth stretching her good as her body rocked back, mind already hazy.
(I'll fill you up every day, baby)
"You're clenching me tight, Mira," Rumi growled, leaning down to breathe next to her ear. Firm hands placed on her hips, steadying her movements, and then, a sharp snap of her hips pushed her length up to the hilt.
A loud cry tore from Mira's lips, head tipping back from the sudden bottoming out. Her legs tremble, hands gripping the cushion of the sofa.
"Does it feel good, sweetheart?" Rumi cooed, her voice dangerously low while her hips dragged back slowly.
The movement earned a whiny breath from Mira, eyes shut as she deliciously clenched around Rumi, feeling the ridged veins. The question is ignored as Mira indulges herself with the heat filling her, oblivious to the way Rumi's eyes darken.
Tattooed hands that were rested on her hips changed locations; one wrapped around her neck, pulling her flushed to Rumi's front, while the other drew a loud cry from Mira. The slap on her ass came suddenly, hard, echoing through the room.
"Answer me, Mira." Rumi's voice dropped, deep and firm, every word pressing into her like an order.
"Y-yes. Fuck yes!" Her voice spilt, ragged and broken.
"Good girl," Rumi murmured against her ear, letting the praise roll over her before her hips snap back forward, the length diving deep again, hitting the sweet spot that drives her insane.
(I want you to come to me anytime, yeah)
Rumi's body flushed still on her back, the weight grounding her as the pace was steady, increasing a bit each time. Mira's back arched, hips responding instinctively as saliva drooled down her lips.
The chuckle that Rumi let out near her ear made her clench on the cock, making sure it's sealed tight inside of her.
"Tell me what you want, Mira." Rumi breathed low, eyes half-lidded, studying her face as the movement was relentless. The movement of their hips colliding in a force that made their muscles taut.
"Mmf— r-ruin m—" Mira moaned, voice shaky and ragged. The rhythm was unforgiving, not giving her time to even rest. Her nails dig into the cushion, drool pooling down the sofa.
"Tell me what you really want, Mira." Rumi cut through, sharp, demanding the truth. A shiver ran through her at the sharpness, the way each word seemed to read her.
"I-I..." Mira stuttered, head dizzy with the sudden demand and the relentless penetration below, not giving her enough sense to make excuses.
"Mira." Rumi's voice vibrated through her body, firm, bold, and out of patience.
"God! Mm… I w-want you to b-be mine." Mira's voice softened, her head lost at the pleasure, but her words were honest.
(Only your existence
Will be my one and only salvation)
And it made Rumi grin, fingers wrapping around Mira's neck, tightening the grip a bit as her pace grew rougher, pressing a bit harder on each hilt.
A broken moan escaped Mira's lips, eyes rolled back, lips parted, saliva glistening at the edges. Being fucked thoroughly, deprived of air and confessing her feelings drove her to sensations she never felt before.
"Say it again, Mira," Rumi commanded, voice husky from the growls she let out.
The older woman snaps her hips, dragging her whole length out before slamming right back inside. Grip tightens around Mira's neck, pulling them upwards a bit.
"Fuck! B-be mine, Rumi. Be mine." Mira sobbed, voice broken and raw, body trembling from the intensity of everything, eyes half-lidded.
(For me, it's only you)
"I've always been yours since the start, Mira. All you had to do was claim me." Rumi chuckled, and the other hand slid down to play with Mira's clit.
The rhythm shifted subtly—slower, then faster, teasing her with deliberate changes, forcing her to adjust, to respond instinctively.
"Claim me, Mira."
(Even if I lose everything, I'll still return to you)
"God—you're m-mine, Rumi, mmm—" Mira whimpers, needy and frantic. Her back arched, thighs trembling and sore, hips moving to meet Rumi's, "Y-you're mine."
(It doesn't matter if I'm completely ruined)
Rumi giggled, lips peppering kisses on Mira's shoulder, fingers shoved inside Mira's mouth, the latter instinctively sucking it, covering it with spit.
"Yes, I am," Rumi muttered low, eyes darkening. "And you're mine."
Mira's thighs quivered, trying to clamp shut, but the relentless pace denied it. Ragged cries, hips jerking back.
"Cum for me, love."
The sweetness in Rumi's voice got her clutching the cushion, nails digging as her body trembled. Her words melted into incomprehensible sounds. The tension tightening each movement.
With it, the pressure snapped, breaking her open. Hot liquid gushed from her, spraying and soaking the couch as a raw scream ripped free. Drool dripping down her chin, toes curling, muscles tautening.
The intensity of Mira's climax pushed Rumi over the edge. Growling her name, hips slamming deep as she emptied into her, every spasm met by her jerking hips and the relentless gush of her climax.
"You're so mine, Mira," was the last thing she said before she collapsed in Rumi's hold.
(Be a little selfish, baby)
────────────── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──────────────
The sun shone through the window, thankfully not directly on her face because if it did, Mira would have a bad morning. The bed rustles, the sheets and comforter sliding down her body as she tries to sit up only to fail miserably.
Her mind was hazy. God, what happened yesterday that left her this sore? She buried her face on the pillow, eyes closed, focusing on remembering the events.
"Geez, Mir, why are you already up?" a lazy murmur woke her half-asleep mind, realising she's not alone in her bed.
Lifting her head up a bit, glancing at the person beside her, everything came flashing back into her mind. The usual Saturday night, the jealousy, the need, the confession, the change.
A variety of curses were mumbled under her breath, face buried in the fabric with a pink hue on her cheeks.
Soon giggles erupted from the drowsy voice. "Wow. Is this how you start the morning? By cursing?"
She can already see the teasing smile on Rumi's stupid gorgeous face. A grumble escaped her lips, earning a soft laugh from the other girl.
"Fuck off, Ru."
Without looking, her arms shoved what she thinks is the shoulder of the older woman, full-on laughs now ringing in her ear.
"Aw come on," she heard the comforter shuffle, the bed beside her dipped, arms securely around her waist, steady breathing near her ear, "I can't just fuck off now, love."
Mira stilled at the endearment, breath turning shallow as her pulse quickened.
Rumi's voice went lower, lips ghosting on Mira's ear, "Especially now that you told me the truth. I need to hear it from you sober from pleasure."
"God, I hate you," Mira grumbled, one eye peeking at Rumi's face, that same goofy smile that made her heart race plastered on her stupid attractive face.
"We know you don't, Mir."
Mira sighed, turning her body to lean on Rumi's embrace, pecking the side of her lips.
"Yeah, dummy. I don't." Mira chuckled, leaning in to leave a chaste kiss on Rumi's lips. "I'm in love with you."
Rumi's goofy smile widened, forehead pressed on her own, bodies flushed together, her lips ghosting on your own.
"I'm so in love with you," Rumi mumbled, sealing her lips with Mira's.
(No matter what, I know that you can always count on me)