Chapter Text
Mira’s 2008 Holden Colorado was the only vehicle for miles on the winding highway, snaking its way through arid looking hill country. On the horizon, the mountains stood out of the landscape like jagged teeth, even now in the middle of summer their tips covered in ice.
The sun was already threatening to disappear behind them and everything around Mira was covered in layers of evening gold.
It hadn’t rained in weeks, and the longest day of the year was fast approaching.
Mira felt uncomfortably hot in her farm shirt and jeans, wishing she’d opted for shorts, but then again shorts were reserved for hot days working on the station - in solitude. Mira didn’t need the men at the tavern stare at her legs, she didn’t need to get into a fight tonight.
All she wanted was a cold beer and to eat something that was not overcooked stew or canned beans.
The tavern came into view, tucked between stunted pine trees along the road, a big swinging Kauri sign out the front declaring that it was open for business. There were also a tiny country school, a majorly overpriced petrol station and a small motel adjacent to the pub, mainly used by truckers passing through.
Mira pulled into the gravelly parking area, hands drumming a steady rhythm on the wheel to the song on the radio. Being the hard introvert she was, this tavern and the small dairy further east were possibly the only two places Mira visited frequently. She avoided the next larger town, Geraldine, like the plague.
Killing the engine, Mira swung her long, muscly legs out of the vehicle, boots hitting the gravel with a crunch. She recognised a lot of the cars in the car park, many of them belonging to fellow station owners or farmhands. Pulling her hat low into her face she made her way inside, beelining straight for the bar.
“Mira”, Ngaire greeted her from behind the counter while simultaneously filling two glasses. “Long time no see, how have you been?”
Mira slumped onto a bar stool, tilting her hat at Ngaire, a stocky, confident lady who’d run this establishment since Mira had been a little kid, waiting in the truck outside while her dad was getting pissed inside.
Ngaire had been the one sneaking paper cups with lemonade and hot chips to Mira and her brother while their dad had drunk himself into oblivion. Not something to think about right now though, or ever, as far as Mira was concerned.
“Been good”, she mumbled. “Busy with the station.”
“I bet you are, a station this size shouldn’t be run by one person alone. The usual?”
Mira nodded in affirmation. “I have a worker”, she reminded the pub owner. “Mystery may not speak much but he’s working just fine.”
“One worker”, Ngaire huffed as she pulled Mira’s beer. “That station used to have a crew of four…”
“Two”, Mira corrected her. “Farmer’s wife and son don’t count. We pretty much ran it, just the old man and me…” She broke off, thinking about Bruce, the old guy who had inherited her, not even a blood relative, his land.
Ngaire patted her arm consolably. “He was a good guy, and you were his favourite.”
The door jingled behind them as someone entered but Mira didn’t bother to turn as Ngaire greeted the newcomer.
“Rumi, so glad you could make it.”
“Me too”, a very soft, disconcertingly pretty voice responded, and Mira was suddenly a lot more interested, although she kept her eyes on her glass.
“I’m just going to set up”, the female by the door said moving further into the room without coming up to the bar.
“Sure hun. You don’t want a drink first?”
A small laugh, comparable to a nightingale’s call, followed. “No, thank you, Ngaire, I’m ok.”
Mira’s curiosity won over, and she turned. Breath catching in her throat, her hand tightened around her glass.
Weaving her way through the other patrons, politely greeting a familiar face here and there, was one sexy-as-hell chick, and Mira’s thighs clamp together with sudden need because damn, it had been a while since she’d last had a good fuck.
When she was younger, she had made her way to Geraldine or even Timaru at least once a month and she’d never had a problem getting into someone’s bed, even when her object of desire had claimed to be straight. Mira carried just enough feminine masculinity and quiet confidence to make it work.
These days though she mainly relied on a good novel and her hands, considering pickings were scarce in the middle of nowhere and Mira was becoming a recluse.
For tonight, she’d have to reconsider. Because the women, Rumi as Ngaire had called her, was easily the hottest creature in the southern hemisphere and not just because Mira was severely underfucked.
She wasn’t short, average height (which meant still a bit shorter than Mira), with a long, swaying braid of bright purple hair, tip of her braid falling past the belt holding up her jeans, tightly cladding her perfect legs. She wore a loose pastel-green crop top, slipping off one shoulder, revealing a toned, flat stomach. Across her back, she had slung a guitar case and Mira watched in awe as she climbed up onto the small wooden and mostly unused stage, pulling up a bar stool to sit.
Mira now had clear views of her face, which was composed perfectly, smooth even lips, a straight nose and warm amber eyes, all framed by a soft jawline.
“Yip, that’s the face I made when I first saw her.” A voice next to Mira snapped her out of her trance and she turned to see Lance, a fellow farmer, with his elbows propped on the bar, giving her a cheeky grin.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about”, Mira growled, pulling her hat lower into her face and draining half the contents of her glass. But she couldn’t lie about her body suddenly aching with need, so she added: “So she’s been here before?”
“Couple of times”, Lance shrugged as the woman on stage carefully unpacked her slightly battered looking guitar, tuning is quietly, disguised by the chatter of the crowd.
“She doesn’t do anything original, just plays some low tune cover songs. She knows a lot of country songs.”
“Mmmh”, Mira hummed as though it didn’t matter.
“I got a wife and kids at home”, Lance mused. “You don’t. So by all means, go have some fun.” He grabbed his drink off the bar and headed over to a table already stacked with his mates, ignoring Mira’s killer-glare.
Fuck, people are annoying, Mira thought.
The girl on stage pulled the microphone up to her lips, the room quietening for a moment as she spoke.
“Kia ora… for those who don’t know me, my name is Rumi”, she introduced herself with a soft smile. “None of the songs you’ll hear tonight are my own so credit to all the amazing artists who created them. And just a reminder that you are more than welcome to request a song – I will do my best to sing it - provided I know it.” She cast an apologetic grin across the room, and the crowd responded with a soft chuckle.
Mira swallowed eyes transfixed on Rumi as she gently brushed her fingers across the guitar strings, then parted her lips to sing, her voice nothing but beautiful.
“There's a road I know I must go
Even though I tell myself
That road is closed
Listen, lonely seabird
You've been away from land too long
Aw, too long”
Mira resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands, slumping back in her seat instead, watching Rumi from under the safety of the brim of her hat.
“I don't listen to the news no more
Like an unwound clock
You just don't seem to care
This world isn't big enough
To keep me away from you
Oh, from you”
Was it just Mira’s imagination or was the other woman looking straight at her from her spot on the stage? She risked tilting her hat back slightly to catch a glint in amber eyes.
That was it.
The corner of Mira’s mouth twitched as her brain locked in. In a room full of hairy, smelly farmers, she did have the highest chance of taking this prize home tonight.
“Seabird, seabird
Fly home
Seabird, seabird
Fly home
Like a lonely seabird
You've been away from land too long
Oh, too long
Suddenly, you're with me
I turn, and you're not there
Like a ghost, you haunt me
You find warmth in a one-night bed”
Now you are singing for all these people, Mira thought with sudden resolve, but in a couple of hours you’ll be singing just for me. Spinning her now empty glass in her hands, she turned away from the stage towards the bar, the shift from feeling flustered to sudden intent giving her every movement purpose.
“Another one?”, Ngaire asked with a kind smile painting wrinkles around her eyes.
“I think I’m going to have to change to something stronger after this”, Mira responded innocently. “It’s been a long week – any of the rooms free so I won’t need to drive?”
If Ngaire suspected any more behind her request for a room, she didn’t show. “Yes, I got a couple of free rooms, I’ll put you down”, she just assured Mira, already reaching for a key hanging up behind the bar.
“Rum and coke after that? Do take it easy though, I know you think you are, but you are not made of steel.”
Mira cast her a crooked smile. She did know her limits and tonight she didn’t want to push them.
Not when she wanted a clear head to pursue her body’s needs.
“Next one will be my last”, she assured the woman behind the bar, before letting her gaze drift back to the stage.
Rumi had finished her first song, smiling politely at someone who’d jumped the stage to whisper something in her ear. She nodded, before picking up the guitar again, smoothly merging into whatever song was requested.
Mira hardly registered when Ngaire placed her dinner and drink in front of her, nodding an absentminded thanks as she was biding her time.
It may have seemed optimistic getting a room so early on, but Mira was awkwardly confident in her abilities to take someone to bed considering she was an introvert.
Obviously, she could have taken Rumi back to the station, too, and it was just as obvious that she would never consider that option.
Perhaps it was the total lack of healthy relationships she had witnessed as a kid, but while Mira was happy to have a good time, she would never actually let someone into her life. One night was always all she took and all she gave. Tonight, she’d make it a good one.
Finishing her dinner, then sipping on her rum and coke, Mira carefully waited until the majority of patrons had cleared the pub and an almost sleepy hush had fallen over the room until she got up, hands in her pocket, strolling up to the stage.
Rumi was taking a drink of water from a bottle by her feet, only looking up when Mira’s shadow fell over her, tilting her head with genuine curiosity.
“You’re very tall for a lady”, the singer said softly, a small smile on her lips.
Mira had to bite back a smirk, instead raising her hands ever so slightly, splaying her fingers in front of her, as though to inspect them.
“I’ve got very long fingers, too.” She winked at Rumi, and the other woman blushed, but her smile didn’t fade.
“I can see that”, she said. “I’m guessing you’d like a song?”
“I’ll start with a song”, Mira ventured, eyes transfixed on Rumi’s to catch any trace of discomfort – there was none. Just warmth and perhaps a spark of excitement.
“Start then”, Rumi encouraged her quietly and Mira stepped in close enough that their legs almost touched, just a thin layer of heated air between them.
“Not sure you know this one”, she said leaning down slightly, Rumi tilting her head back to hold her gaze. “Wildflowers and wild horses?”
“Lainy Wilson”, Rumi said knowingly. “Why this song?”
Mira smirked. “Cause it’s me in that song.”
“Four fifth of reckless and one fifth of jack?” Rumi’s eyes twinkled when she spoke.
Mira was just a little impressed. “No. Born tough as nails.”
She turned, walking off the stage with rigid confidence, feeling Rumi’s gaze burning her neck all the way back to bar.
Only when Rumi sang the first words of her song did Mira turn again to find Rumi looking straight at her with something close to dedication – cute.
It was by far the best performance of Mira’s favourite song she’d heard but she wasn’t surprised.
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, and she pointed at her empty glass, then at Rumi in invitation. Rumi somehow managed to seamlessly nod while she kept singing and Mira turned to Ngaire.
“What does she drink?”
Ngaire, not very busy at this late hour, raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Believe it or not, she normally just has a soda water or a cranberry juice.”
“Not a drinker”, Mira pondered. “She might be driving”, Ngaire shrugged.
Not tonight, not if Mira could help it. “Let’s be adventurous and get her the juice”, she said with a small smirk, passing Ngaire her card and Ngaire tapped it without question or judgement.
Rumi wrapped up her song, followed by her guitar, the few patrons still hanging around complimenting her with enthusiastic applause.
“That’s it for tonight, as always, it’s been an absolute pleasure being here. Thank you, Ngaire, for having me. Pō Marie”, she gently spoke into the microphone, before making her way over to the bar, sliding onto the empty stool next to Mira.
Mira pushed the glass of rubine-red liquid towards her with the hint of a smile. “I’ve never heard a cover so good”, she said truthfully. “Are you a singer by trade?”
Rumi’s cheeks glowed slightly but it was impossible to say if it was due to Mira’s statement or delayed stage blush.
“No, I just… do this for fun. Sometimes.”
She seemed shyer off the stage, softer somehow, as she wrapped a hand around her cool glass, taking a small drink.
“Thanks for this”, she added, and Mira nodded. “My pleasure. Can I get you anything else?”
Rumi’s face split into a smile. “No this is plenty, thank you.”
For a moment they sat in companionable silence, Mira taking her time to admire Rumi up close.
Her eyes didn’t waver as she took in the other woman’s pretty, shining face, her exposed collar bones, her lithe figure.
Rumi shot her a curious glance. “You’re staring.”
“Because you’re beautiful.”
This time it was definitely a blush creeping into the singer’s cheeks, extending to her ears. “I…ah.. I guess that’s down to personal preference.”
Mira let out a short, quiet laugh.
“I’m pretty sure you are everyone’s… personal preference. You must feel them look at you.”
Rumi’s gaze dropped back onto her glass. “I do… sometimes.”
“Every man in this room was staring you down on that stage”, Mira pushed on. “Some of them not bad looking. Yet you are here – with me.” It was a statement and a challenge all at once.
She watched the subtle way Rumi’s thighs shifted against one another, and she knew she’d hit her target.
“Yea well”, Rumi responded, so quiet it was clearly for Mira’s ears only. “No one else caught my eye.”
She looked up at her own words, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights, as though she’d surprised herself with her own forwardness.
Mira’s smirk was cool and calm, not giving away any of the heat pooling in her stomach.
“Lucky me”, she said low and just rough enough to convey her full intentions.
She swung her bar stool, so she was facing Rumi, their thighs again just centimetres from each other’s.
“I’m Mira by the way.” She held her hand out loosely and Rumi grabbed it, soft fingers wrapping around hers with intoxicating gentleness.
“Rumi.” She held Mira’s gaze with a hint of her shy curiosity. “Are you from around here? I haven’t seen you here before.”
“I am. Sort of”, Mira admitted. “I just don’t get out much. Rather busy with what I do.”
“What do you do?”, Rumi wanted to know, gaze never wavering.
“I run a station”, Mira said, and Rumi nodded, not without admiration. “You look the part”, she smiled.
Mira tipped her hat at her in a mock thank you and Rumi’s eyes seemed to light up slightly at the gesture.
She’s into it, Mira thought fighting back a triumphant grin.
“How about you?”, she asked. “When you are not a famous singer, what do you do.”
It was the first time Rumi averted her gaze, cheeks darkening.
“I’m not famous”, she just said. “I’m nobody really.”
So the other woman didn’t like talking about herself, Mira noted, but she could live with that. It wasn’t like she needed Rumi’s back story. She just needed her clothes off.
“A very attractive nobody”, she said without pushing any further. “I don’t need your story, pretty girl. I’m just asking for a little bit of your time tonight.”
It was pretty forward, but Rumi looked back up at her, the spark back in her eyes.
“Time as in…”
Mira slipped her hand onto Rumi’s thigh with cool calculation. “Time as in I would like to take this somewhere more private.”
Rumi’s lips parted, eyes flicking from Mira’s hand back to her eyes. “Like that, is it?”
“Just like that”, Mira affirmed, not blind to the longing plastered all over the singer’s face.
“No strings attached?”
Mira shook her head. “I know wild horses like to run free.”
A tiny shudder passed through the woman across from her and then she nodded, slow but determined. “I… yes. But I don’t usually…”
“I don’t either”, Mira said, partly the truth. She didn’t anymore.
Rumi’s thigh twitched under her hand and Mira wished she could feel it without the thick fabric of jeans. Perhaps Rumi had that very same thought because her head snapped up with sudden determination.
“Where’s that… somewhere more private place you were talking about.”
Mira rose from her chair, offering her hand to Rumi to help her up. If she thought about this too long, her rational mind might win over her body’s aching desire.
She wished Ngaire a good night, giving silent credit to the woman who didn’t bat an eyelid as she watched the two ladies disappear through the door and across the car park.
There were five rooms, all with a small covered front porch. Mira didn’t need to check the keys to know Ngaire had put her in the end room.
“You were thinking ahead”, Rumi said with quiet amusement, shifting from one foot to another as Mira unlocked and pushed open the door.
“Optimistically yes”, Mira chuckled, stepping back to let Rumi enter first. For a moment, Rumi seemed to hesitate, eyes lingering on Mira, searching for something only she understood – then she stepped inside, switching on the light, shrugging off her guitar case.
The room was tiny, a bed, two nightstands and an old wooden arm chair the only pieces of furniture. A small, warm lightshade dangled dull from the ceiling. It was stifling warm and somewhere, a mosquito buzzed maddingly, but Mira couldn’t care less.
Her eyes were transfixed on Rumi, who stood inches from the bed, facing her with reddened cheeks, hands folded in front of her like she didn’t know what else to do with them.
“You are so beautiful”, Mira said truthfully, letting the door fall shut behind her. Rumi opened her mouth to protest, but Mira stepped in, taking the words from her lips before they manifested.
“May I kiss you?”
Rumi looked stunned but managed a small, almost unperceivable nod. Mira cupped her cheeks, hands that were used to straining wires and saddle horses suddenly infinitely soft.
Rumi’s head tilted up under her touch as she leant down until their lips found each other and Rumi let out the quietest most endearing hum, eyes fluttering shut. The moment chased a gush of wetness between Mira’s thighs as she silently thanked whatever power had sent this girl her way tonight.
The singer’s lips were soft and surprisingly cool and her hands came up to Mira’s hips featherlight like she was unsure about what she was doing. Mira allowed herself to slip one hand firmly around her neck to draw her in, gently pushing her tongue against Rumi’s bottom lip.
For a moment, the other woman stiffened like she was going to pull out but then her lips parted, allowing Mira in. With a satisfied sigh, she curved her tongue against Rumi’s, tasting the bitter sweetness of cranberries. Rumi’s movements were shy and pliant, allowing Mira to take the lead.
The taller woman’s head started to spin, and it was not from the alcohol in her blood. She couldn’t remember a kiss ever turning her on like this and she didn’t know whether to put it down to how long she’d not done this or how incredible this woman in her arms felt.
She didn’t want to think about it either, her mind calming into an almost primal state as her hands left their position around Rumi’s jaw, sliding down the side of her neck along her shoulders and down to her exposed hips, tongue never stopping its dance against Rumi’s.
Rumi sucked in a sharp breath through her nose, another shudder running through her body, but she never pulled away. Encouraged, Mira started exploring naked, cool skin with skilled, strong fingers, following Rumi’s waistline, trailing her ribcage with tender care.
Rumi’s hands stayed still, curled into the fabric of Mira’s shirt, and when Mira’s fingers pushed under the elastic of her bra, she broke the kiss with a sudden gasp, eyes snapping open, hands falling to her side.
Shit.
Mira cooled her throbbing need just enough to examine the other woman’s expression with concern. “Are you ok with this?”, she asked gently, fingers resting in place.
She could feel Rumi’s skin heat, starting with her face, see the desire in the singer’s eyes, but also a hint of nerves. Mira understood, this woman didn’t know her from a bar of soap and although she’d be bitterly disappointed, she would not blame Rumi for pulling out.
“I…”, the purple-haired woman stammered. “I really… haven’t done… this before.”
“A one-night stand?”, Mira asked, easing off her cautiously, even as a flicker of disappointment chased across Rumi’s face.
“With a woman”, the singer clarified, dropping her gaze.
So a same-sex virgin, Mira thought, her luck clearly changing for the better again. Check pot.
With a knowing smirk, she closed back in, trailing a soothing finger down the side of Rumi’s face.
“But you like this?”, she whispered teasingly, and Rumi bit her bottom lip with a small shiver.
“Y… Yes… I do…. I… just don’t know… what to do.”
Mira quirked an eyebrow at her in question. “To do?”
“To do to make sure it’s also good for you”, Rumi pressed out embarrassed, and Mira couldn’t help but laugh. She quickly swallowed it though, wrapping Rumi’s chin in one hand, making her look up to meet her gaze.
“There is nothing you have to do to make me feel good”, she said with honesty. “Making you feel good, will make me feel good.”
Rumi looked at her with utter disbelief. “But…”
“Let me prove it to you”, Mira murmured, placing another gentle kiss on her lips. “Let me make you feel good. And if you’d like to stop… just say stop.”
She searched Rumi’s eyes, the other woman clearly caught between desire and fear. Finally, the singer nodded. “Ok. I just don’t want to disappoint you.”
“You won’t.” Mira guided her towards the bed with gentle firmness and when the back of Rumi’s knees hit the edge, she sat obediently, kicking off her shoes, looking up at Mira.
“Lie down”, Mira instructed, nudging her further up and back, until Rumi was flat on her back, head propped against the pillows.
It was probably wrong, but her endearing insecurity just added layers to her arousal as Mira lowered herself above her, straddling her hips, propping herself up on both elbows before taking Rumi’s lips again in a deep, heated kiss.
Giving Rumi the direction she needed, she wrapped one large hand around both her wrists, guiding and holding them above her head and Rumi reacted with an actual moan Mira swallowed all too greedily.
Encouraged, she abandoned Rumi’s lips in favour of kissing a soft trail down her jaw and neck, and Rumi shivered, head falling to the side, breath coming way too fast now. Almost as though she was scared to allow another sound, she pressed her lips together, as Mira allowed her hand to let go of Rumi’s wrists to wander again, gently nudging up Rumi’s crop top.
“May I?”, she whispered against Rumi’s now burning skin. Rumi’s nod was short and erratic, and Mira didn’t want to take the chance to cross the line, so she paused.
“I may need to hear your beautiful voice”, she added. The shudder Rumi gave at the compliment did not go unnoticed and Mira filed the information away for later.
It took Rumi a few seconds to answer but she did. “…you may.”
Thank fuck for that, Mira thought, as she eased Rumi’s shirt up and over her head, assisted by the fact that Rumi lifted her upper body, stomach tensing into abs.
“I’m glad”, she said out loud, drinking in the site of Rumi in jeans and a black sports bra below her, chest rapidly rising and falling. “It’s really too hot for clothes.”
She allowed her right hand to slip up across Rumi’s breast, cupping it gently, feeling the singer’s nipple harden through the fabric when she traced her thumb across it. Another tiny gasp slipped from Rumi’s lips despite her efforts to hold back, her hands fisting the pillow above her head.
Mira knew she could come right there and then with Rumi starting to squirm beneath her, but she held on, wanting to draw out the pleasure for as long as she could.
Also, she really wanted Rumi to come first.
Coaxing the other woman’s nipple while applying gentle pressure to her breast, she was rewarded with another series of tiny, supressed gasps, almost desperate this time, and a wave of delight washed through her when Rumi actually jerked up her hips, looking for a point of contact.
She didn’t need to ask permission to push Rumi’s bra up and over her head, the other girl eagerly lifting her body this time, her need to feel skin on skin obviously as much as Mira’s now.
When Mira touched her again, no layer of fabric to dampen the sensation this time, Rumi let out a pleading hum, almost like a song, and Mira knew she’d not have long before she’d soak her own jeans if she didn’t hurry up and get them off.
“You’re so pretty”, she whispered against Rumi’s ear. “You feel so good. You have such a pretty voice.” And Rumi twitched at each compliment, arching into Mira’s touch with quiet desperation.
Mira made sure not to rush, to give both of Rumi’s perfect breasts the attention they deserved, before she finally pushed up and sat back admiring her work.
Rumi looked a mess in the best possible way. Her head was still spun to the side, one hand had come to her lips, teeth clenched around her own knuckle. Her other hand was clasped around the fabric of the pillow, trembling. A thin layer of sweat made her skin glow in the warm light of the room.
She was so breathtakingly beautiful with her bare chest and flushed cheeks Mira had to bite back a moan. Determined to see more, she leant in to undo Rumi’s belt, followed by the button of her jeans.
“Are you ok with this?”, she checked as she hooked her fingers into Rumi’s waistband. Rumi let out a whimper that was quite clearly a yes, bucking up her hips and Mira pulled both jeans and underwear down in one languid movement, leaving Rumi bare.
Almost on autopilot, Rumi’s legs snapped shut, a quiver of insecurity passing though her features. “Don’t”, Mira soothed her, easing her apart with gentle care. “Don’t hide, you are so beautiful…”
Rumi shook her head quietly, but her thighs fell apart, and Mira proceeded to lean down and kiss her chest, tongue gently coaxing each nipple until Rumi started to drop her guard again, letting out a quiet but audible moan.
“That’s it”, she whispered, in between starting to trail kisses down Rumi’s stomach. “Let me hear that pretty voice, Rumi.”
Rumi responded with a whimper and then, unexpectedly, her fingers thread into Mira’s hair on their own accord, light and shy but nonetheless with unspoken demand. Mira looked up at her just once and Rumi looked straight back her, startling Mira with the silent plea in her eyes.
The last ounce of hesitation Mira may have had about fucking this complete stranger slipped into nothingness and she wrapped both arms around Rumi’s legs, teeth grazing her hipbone, body shaking with anticipation of tasting Rumi on her tongue.
She managed to drag it out a few more blissful moments, running her tongue along the inside of the singer’s thigh instead, then she heard a breathless, quiet “please…” and her head snapped down and between Rumi’s legs, pure desire gaining the upper hand.
Mira soothed her tongue over slick soft folds and stars formed behind her eyelids as Rumi’s taste, her sound, the way she squirmed against her threatened to overwhelm her.
Fuck, this girl was the best things she’d ever tasted or felt, and somewhere in the depth of her mind was a tiny spark of disappointment that this was only one night, but the thought never surfaced properly, her whole conscious mind now on Rumi and bringing her pleasure.
And Rumi responded, nails digging into Mira’s skull, each moan a quiet, desperate note hummed through quivering lips. Adjusting her position ever so slightly, Mira slipped a finger inside the other girl’s dripping entrance with ease and Rumi keened, then fell completely silent, breath stuck in her throat, legs seizing, as she came.
Mira hadn’t expected her to come this easily, this fast, but she didn’t have time to question it as her own orgasm washed through her, leaving her blissed out and featherlight.
When Mira came back to herself, her face was pressed against Rumi’s thigh, her shirt soaked in sweat, jeans clinging uncomfortable to her body.
Slowly peeling herself out of her clothes, she worked her way back up Rumi’s body until she was next to her, running a soothing finger across her naked form, still wrecked by the occasional tremor.
“See”, she whispered, and Rumi turned to her, half-lidded, lips still parted as she was catching her breath.
“You made me feel good. You did so well.”
Rumi’s cheeks darkened, but she didn’t look away, eyes on Mira in the dim light.
The mosquito buzzed around them but neither of them cared.
“And you don’t want me to..?”, Rumi trailed off hesitantly, eyes drifting down Mira’s now naked figure with insecure curiosity.
Mira’s lips twitched into a small smile as she pushed a strand of purple hair out of Rumi’s glowing face.
“If you ask me what I want”, she whispered. “I’d love to go again, because that was the by far hottest thing that ever happened to me.”
Rumi let out a small, embarrassed laugh but then she quietened again, eyes still fixed on Mira.
“Please”, she said quietly. “Please do it again.”
……………
Mira didn’t know when or how she’d drifted off to sleep.
Normally she would have taken what she came for, then settled the room and left to drive home alone. Because waking up next to someone in the morning was against Mira’s law.
It didn’t matter.
When she woke up to the faint light of a morning sunrise, sheets tangled between stiff legs, she was alone.