Chapter Text
Mira walked into the event already irritated. The venue was valet parking only – mandatory, no exceptions – and she’d nearly turned around on the spot. Her 1961 Jaguar was more than a car. It was hours of labor, late nights in the garage, grease under her nails and the quiet satisfaction of coaxing life from something old and temperamental.
Letting a stranger drive it felt like betrayal.
Was she a little obsessive?
Absolutely.
Begrudgingly, she handed over the keys to the bright‑eyed valet boy who looked far too eager to drive it. His look of admiration both pleased and concerned her. Her jaw tightened as the keys slipped from her fingers. Mira knew then that if she was going to survive the night, she’d have to keep reminding herself that she was doing this for Zoey.
The venue was all glass and gold, the kind of place that made her feel like she should apologize for breathing too loud. Zoey had squealed when she got Mira in – said it was some exclusive Huntrix Inc. gala, all high fashion and higher stakes.
Mira had thought the modeling gig was a one-off. She hadn’t realized it came with a year-long contract and a list of obligations that she hadn’t bothered to read.
She was here now though, and she’d promised Zoey she’d try.
The entire process was cumbersome. She waited in line to get through the security posted diligently at the front entrance. When it was finally her turn, they checked her ID, scanned her body… and she was grateful that, for once, she hadn’t brought her trusty pocket screwdriver. If it had set off the metal detectors and made this whole hassle take any longer, she might’ve actually given up.
At last, the security guard waved her through.
The media was banned from the building, or so she was informed, but clearly that didn’t stop them from swarming the street outside like moths to a flame. As soon as the doors closed behind her, the bustle of the street was replaced with a cacophony of voices – overlapping, all pitched to the same self‑important octave. The air felt as thick with ambition as it was stuffy with perfume.
Mira was greeted at the door to the main hall.
“Mira Katadoski”
She nodded without smiling.
As soon as she could, she grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing tray, downed one immediately, and settled into a leather couch at the edge of the crowd.
No one else was sitting. Maybe their outfits were too delicate. Mira didn’t care. Her burgundy suit, tailored and expensive, was Zoey’s doing. Mira had only asked for comfort. The rest was a compromise.
She scanned the room, trying to spot someone named Celine Kang, ‘the head of Huntrix’ Zoey had said, a woman she was meant to impress. Mira walked in without knowing what she looked like, figuring she would be able to find the most important person in the room. Unfortunately, however, everyone looked important.
Everyone looked exhausting.
Then in the dizzying blur of the crowd, she saw someone.
A woman with a long braid of purple hair, wearing a silk, black dress clinging to her in all the right places. She stood with a posture of someone who’d rather be anywhere else. Her expression wasn’t polite or performative like of those around her – it was bored, maybe even resentful.
A kindred spirit.
Their eyes locked across the room, and Mira’s breath caught. It lasted only a moment, but it was enough for her to notice the woman’s brief glance toward the bar, the smallest tilt of her head.
An invitation.
Mira finished her champagne and stood, weaving through the crowd. Everything else faded into static, a low, irrelevant buzzing in the background. Whispered excuse mes paved the way toward her.
Mira was dumbstruck by the unexpected depth of the eyes that met hers – dark brown, soft, yet simmering, like velvet edged with fire.
“Hey,” Mira managed, summoning the word more than speaking. Suddenly shy.
The woman smiled, slow and indulgent, eyes tracing Mira’s frame like she was undressing her on the spot. Mira felt heat rise in her chest.
“Who are you?” the woman asked, and her voice – God, her voice – was melodic in the way that made Mira want to keep her talking all night.
“Mira,” she said, trying for casual, though the woman’s steadily rising eyebrows made it clear she wasn’t pulling it off. “And you?”
“You don’t know who I am?”
“Am I supposed to?" Mira laughed, a little startled. "Are you some kind of princess or something?”
The woman flushed. “I didn’t mean to sound so arrogant. It just…Seriously?” She squinted at Mira, “it just doesn’t happen very often.”
“I swear. Never heard of you.” Mira chuckled; hands raised in the air in a plea of surrender. Then leaned in, just enough to test the boundary. “So… are you going to tell me, princess?”
The woman met her halfway, leaning in too, eyes bright and unmistakably delighted.
“Rumi.”
“Hi, Rumi,” Mira said, and noticed the way Rumi’s gaze flicked to her mouth. Noted it. Filed it away.
“What do you do?” Rumi asked, pulling back to grab the two glasses that the bartender was handing her. She passed one to Mira. “Lemon drop.”
Mira took a sip before answering. The drink was perfect – sweet, sour, and deceptively smooth. “I’m an electrician.”
Rumi snorted, nearly spilling her drink. She slapped a hand over her mouth, barely catching the drops already sliding down her chin. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she sputtered, wiping the mess away with the back of her bare wrist.
Mira grinned. “Yes, I’m serious. But I guess what you’re really wondering is how I ended up here.”
Rumi nodded, apologetic – and if Mira didn’t know better, almost a little shy herself.
“I did a modeling gig,” Mira explained. “Got paid. And… invited. Now I’m here, pretending to care.”
“It’s dreadful, isn’t it?” Rumi whispered, leaning in until their shoulders brushed, until their hushed exchange began to feel like a secret shared.
“Want to ditch the party?” Mira said, the words slipping out before she could think.
~
The invitation hung in the air. Unanswered.
Rumi’s heart thumped, her mind screamed a resounding yes.
But she should say no. It would be reckless. It would make Celine furious. She’d only meant to take a short break – just enough to catch her breath. What she should have been doing was schmoozing the Saja Group, not… whatever this was. Getting caught up with a perfect stranger.
So why didn’t Mira feel like a stranger at all?
She was warm, grounded, and somehow utterly uninterested in the power games playing out around them.
Rumi scanned the room – and just as she expected… Celine was watching her, wearing that irritating, icy, expectant look.
Rumi’s stomach dropped. She felt sick.
She startled at the gentle brush of Mira’s fingers on her forearm. Rumi turned, finding Mira watching her with something that looked dangerously close to concern.
It was bizarre.
No one looked at Rumi Kang like that.
Like she was someone who needed help.
“You look stressed,” Mira offered. “Everything alright?”
Rumi bit her lip. She searched Mira’s face for any sign of deceit, any hint of manipulation.
There was none.
Just something that looked like warmth. Something that looked like care. And maybe it was Mira herself, or maybe it was the burning desire to piss Celine off, but the choice came easier than Rumi ever imagined
“You’ll drive?” Rumi asked, keeping her voice low.
Mira’s grin widened with pure mischief. “Of course.”
Rumi let herself get pulled through the crowd, pushing past people who would gladly ruin her without ever giving it a second thought. But she felt invincible – for once – completely consumed by the persistent warmth rising in her chest. The wild, impossible feeling of being found by the only person she had ever known who wasn’t anything like them.
Someone she didn’t have to fear.
It was a flimsy belief, fragile and foreign, but Rumi found herself clinging to it more and more with every step toward the exit, with every glance Mira threw over her shoulder. With every smile that passed between them like a promise and a keepsake.
Mira wasn’t like them at all.
------------------------------------------
The valet boy hesitated, fumbling through some explanation about needing to be the one to drive the car out of the lot, but Mira leveled him with a look that brokered no argument. He cut himself off mid‑sentence and handed over the keys without another word.
She opened the passenger door for Rumi, and Rumi slid in, taking in the spotless interior of the Jaguar. She didn’t know what she expected, but something about this car both screamed Mira and contradicted everything Rumi had gathered so far. The boldness of the sleek, polished to perfection red exterior made little sense – that part she couldn’t quite place.
But the rest… the way the leather gleamed, the way every surface looked tended to with deliberate care… that wasn’t money. Money could buy shine, but not devotion. This car looked loved in a way only attention – only knowing – could create.
Somehow that part of Mira had been apparent immediately.
It made Rumi feel a little jealous. Jealous that she had never been known as well as a piece of metal had been beneath Mira’s hands.
The engine purred to life, low and smooth. Mira’s fingers curled around the steering wheel, her other hand resting casually on the gearshift. The interior had warmed from the hot day, leather soft, molding to their bodies.
Rumi settled into the passenger seat, her silk dress whispering against the upholstery. She glanced sideways, catching Mira’s profile lit by the late afternoon sun – sharp jaw, hair pulled into an effortless low pony, eyes flicking toward her.
Yeah, the fact that she had scored a modeling gig didn’t surprise Rumi in the slightest.
“Where do you want to go?” Mira asked, her gaze lingered on Rumi’s, gleaming with more than curiosity – hunger.
Rumi’s pulse jumped.
“Anywhere you want to take me,” she said, and the words came out too fast, too honest. Adrenaline surged through her veins, hot and reckless. But it didn’t change the fact that she meant it. She would follow Mira anywhere.
Rumi had never been this brazen before. Never dared to disobey Celine so publicly. But tonight, something in her had snapped loose. Or maybe Mira had tugged it free.
Mira raised an eyebrow. “How do you know I’m not some creep who’s going to kidnap you?”
Rumi turned her head, met her eyes. “Well, are you?”
Mira’s smile softened. “No…”
“Then where are we going?” Rumi asked, her voice quieter now, hopeful. She wanted distance. She wanted escape. She wanted Mira to drive her somewhere they wouldn’t have to come back from.
“I have a spot in mind,” Mira said, shifting gears. “It’ll take a while to get there though. It’s outside the city. Is that okay with you?”
Rumi hesitated. This was her last chance to go back upstairs, to play the part, to smile and charm and pretend she wasn’t drowning.
The thought alone made her nauseous.
“I don’t mind the time,” Rumi said, swallowing down the queasiness. “Somewhere out of town sounds amazing, actually.”
Mira gave her a lopsided grin, and Rumi felt it like a spark in her chest.
She turned her face toward the window, hiding the smile that bloomed uninvited.
She was Rumi Kang.
The entire world bent around her name. She had been raised to command, to calculate, to never let her heart outrun her mind. She never gambled this recklessly before. And yet here she was, going all in, on a complete stranger.
Mira hadn’t asked for anything. Hadn’t tried to impress her. Hadn’t even known who she was and somehow, that made her presence feel more valuable than anything Rumi had ever owned.
----------------------------------------------
They drove in silence for a long while. The city thinned behind them, replaced by open stretches of road and the soft hush of wind. The sun began its slow descent. The breeze grew cooler, brushing softly against their skin.
“Let me know if you get cold,” Mira said, stealing a glance at Rumi. “I’ve got blankets in the trunk.”
Rumi turned her head, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Is that your move? Blankets?”
Mira chuckled. “No. It’s just a necessity for a convertible. Not all days are as nice as this.”
Rumi tipped her head back against the seat, eyes tracing the fading city skyline. “Do you like what you do? For work I mean.”
“I love my work,” Mira said without hesitation.
“What do you love about it?”
Mira felt Rumi’s attention back on her, eyes scanning her profile.
“I like that I get to help people. That I can see the impact right away.” She admitted. “I’ve been stuck doing new construction lately, though. I miss servicing businesses – talking to people, building relationships. Although there are a few stops that I always make sure to squeeze into my schedule.”
She glanced at Rumi. “What about you? Do you like what you do?”
Rumi visibly tensed, her gaze dropping to her lap. “I—I do.” She said after a moment, twisting the ring on her pointer finger.
“That’s not very convincing,” Mira said, nudging her gently with an elbow.
“I guess I don’t know.” Rumi exhaled a long breath, like she had been holding it for a while. “I’ve never done anything else.”
“Would you want to?”
“I don’t think I can.”
“Humor me,” Mira’s voice softened at the request, “If you could?”
Rumi considered then, eyes distant. “I’d do something with my hands I guess... I love cooking. So maybe that.”
“Cool.”
“Cool?” Rumi echoed. “That’s all you have for me?”
“That’s very nice, princess,” Mira drew out the last word with exaggerated affection.
~
Princess.
Rumi huffed, exasperated and amused in equal measure. This woman was going to drive her mad. She didn’t know what possessed her – maybe it was a test, maybe it was the need to confirm that Mira was real and not some impossible figment – but she reached across the console and rested her hand on Mira’s thigh.
She felt the muscles tighten beneath her fingers.
“Is this okay?” she asked.
Mira looked down at Rumi’s hand as though she needed to confirm it was really there. Rumi felt the heat radiating beneath her fingertips, like Mira was a small sun generating more warmth than should be possible. Maybe she was imagining the fluster she wanted to see – projecting it, willing it – but either way, she liked the effect she had on this once‑confident woman who’d had the audacity to approach her at the gala.
“Yeah,” Mira managed, the word escaping tight and small from her throat.
“Cool,” Rumi said, her thumb beginning to trace slow, deliberate circles across the fabric of Mira’s pants.
“Cool.” Mira echoed, voice breaking.
~
They drove like that for over an hour – soft conversation, stolen glances, Rumi’s hand drifting to and from Mira’s leg. The city gave way to farmland, the horizon stretching wide and golden before them.
The sun hung low, hovering just above the hills, ready to fall.
Mira drove faster now and the car hummed beneath them with more urgency. She knew every curve of this road, every dip and rise. This was her favorite part – the speed, the illusion of weightlessness. Usually, she tried to capture every moment, memorizing the shifting colors of the sky, imprinting them like every second was precious in its own right.
But tonight felt different. Better.
She couldn't help but keep glancing away, eyes drifting from the road, from the sky, from the familiar beauty she usually clung to. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. Rumi looked like she belonged to the sky itself, her braid whipping wild in the wind, every purple strand glowing with the warm light of the setting sun.
They were only a few minutes away now from the perfect spot. A quiet hillside off the main road, where the view opened wide and the sunset felt like it belonged to her alone.
Now, she wanted nothing more than to share it.
----------------------------------------------------
They pulled into the clearing, the gravel road ending in a soft curve at the edge of the hillside. The valley stretched before them, the grass dimming to a dusky green, baby blue sky streaked with the glow of cotton candy clouds.
“Whoa,” Rumi breathed, eyes wide as she took in the view. “It’s so beautiful,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” Mira said, but her voice was quiet in a different way. Rumi turned, cheeks warming when she realized Mira wasn’t looking at the horizon at all – her gaze was locked on her.
“Wait right there,” Mira said, slipping out of the car. She popped the trunk and pulled out a thick blanket, finding a soft patch of grass away from the gravel.
She returned to Rumi’s door, opening it with a grin.
“Can I come out now?” Rumi teased.
“Yes, princess. Just give me your foot.”
Rumi extended one leg, hands braced on the seat. “What are you—”
She yelped when Mira knelt in front of her, fingers wrapping gently around her ankle.
“You’ll ruin your heels. I’ll carry you,” Mira explained the sudden closeness.
Her hands moved fast, slipping off Rumi’s shoes and setting them neatly on the floor of the car. One hand worked the buckle, the other stayed wrapped around her ankle. Then, Mira’s fingers slid higher, curling around the curve of Rumi’s calf.
Rumi sucked in a breath, sharp and involuntary.
Mira froze, looking up.
Rumi stared down at her, unsure if the action was intentional or a thoughtless accident. Her lips parted in a question but only a shaky breath came out when Mira smoothed her hand over Rumi’s calf again. The motion was slower this time, clearly intentional.
Rumi bit her lip, feeling the sensation travel north, until it settled between her legs with an insistent hum.
Mira ran her hand up, then down, dragging sensation from Rumi.
Rumi didn’t stop her. She didn’t speak. She just watched, electricity humming through her body.
Her grip on the passenger seat tightened, knuckles going pale.
Then Mira nudged Rumi’s legs apart – just slightly, just enough to reveal a sliver of skin above her knee. Rumi let her knee follow, her heart fluttering in anticipation. Their eyes locked, and Rumi watched as Mira leaned in and pressed a firm kiss to that exposed spot.
Rumi whimpered, her hand flying to Mira’s shoulder for balance. Mira smiled against her skin, then kissed again – lips parting this time, heat blooming where her mouth met flesh.
“Fuck, Mira,” Rumi gasped, her grip tightening. She parted her legs a little more, offering space.
Mira answered with a soft, satisfied hum. “As much as I’d love to keep going… I don’t want you to miss the sunset.”
And to Rumi’s devastation, she began to rise. Mira reached around her, arms slipping beneath her and Rumi looped her arms around Mira’s neck, letting herself be lifted.
“You know I could’ve walked,” Rumi said, breathless as Mira set her down on the blanket. “Even if I broke a heel.”
Mira didn’t answer. Instead, she reached for Rumi’s chin, guiding it gently toward the horizon. Rumi leaned into her touch, letting her head settle against Mira’s shoulder as the sky shifted from pink to a deep, molten orange.
“How did you find this place?” Rumi murmured, pressing closer.
“Just driving,” Mira replied, voice low and thoughtful. “Stopped for a break once. Thought I got lucky, but I was wrong.”
Rumi tilted her head, confused. “Wrong?”
Mira angled down, catching her gaze with a softness that made Rumi’s breath catch. “I’m feeling much luckier right now.”
“You’re so cheesy,” Rumi said, eyes flicking down to Mira's lips. Her heartbeat quickening despite herself.
“Is it working?”
Without a doubt.
Rumi angled upward, so that her lips barely grazed Mira’s ear as she spoke “Unfortunately."
Mira shivered, a soft gasp slipping free before she could stop it.
Rumi had never felt anything like this – not with anyone. Mira liked her for her, not for the name she carried, not for the empire she represented. Rumi had always believed she understood power, how to wield it, how to stay three steps ahead. But now she realized she’d known nothing at all. Because somehow – without effort, without strategy – she got Mira to like her.
Rumi felt almost incidental to it, as if Mira had seen something she herself had never recognized.
And the fact that she, stripped of titles, could make a beautiful woman tremble with a single word?
It went straight to her head.
Naturally Rumi wanted to test the limits of her power.
She leaned in, fingers curling into Mira’s tie and giving it a slow, deliberate tug. Her lips found the soft skin of Mira’s neck, tentative at first, then bolder, teeth grazing the pulse point. Rumi felt it beneath her lips, how Mira’s breath had turned shallow and uneven.
“Are you sure?” Mira managed, voice tight with restraint.
Rumi pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “Please,” she breathed.
~
Mira didn’t hesitate. She shifted, easing Rumi onto her back, settling above her. Rumi’s arms slid around her neck, fingers threading into the soft hair at Mira’s nape. Mira hovered there, a breath from her lips, searching Rumi’s gaze for even the faintest flicker of doubt.
There was none.
Only want. Only hunger.
And as if Mira had spoken her intentions aloud, Rumi’s fingers curled tighter in her hair, her body arching up to meet her – reaching, inviting.
Mira leaned in.
Rumi responded instantly, tilting her head, the kiss deepening before it even had time to settle. Her mouth was warm, tasting faintly of lemon and alcohol and something unmistakably her. Mira sighed into it, her hand sliding down the length of Rumi’s thigh, coaxing the fabric of her dress higher with each gentle stroke.
Rumi kissed like it was her last day on earth. Like she has been waiting for this exact moment and didn’t want to let go of it now that she had it. Mira matched her, slow at first, then bolder, lips parting, tongue sliding against Rumi’s coaxing a low moan. The blanket rustled beneath them as Mira shifted closer, her thigh pressing between Rumi’s legs, making the woman below her groan.
When they finally pulled apart, it wasn’t desire that stopped them - it was breath. Rumi’s eyes fluttered open, dazed and shining. Mira rested her forehead against hers, both of them smiling, breathless and stunned by how quickly the world had narrowed to just this.
“I’m so glad I went to that stupid party,” Mira whispered against Rumi’s lips.
“Me too,” Rumi murmured.
Mira glanced behind her, noting the last sliver of sun dipping below the horizon. She lifted off Rumi, earning a soft sound of protest, but didn’t go far. Instead, she slid lower, hands tracing the curve of Rumi’s waist, settling between her legs, half way off the blanket.
“Mira,” Rumi said, propping herself up on one elbow, her voice breathy, curious. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t want to stop touching you,” Mira said, nodding toward the horizon, “but I don’t want you to miss the sunset either.”
Her hands dragged slowly up Rumi’s thighs, hiking the dress to her hips.
Rumi’s breath caught. Words failed her. All she could do was stare—at Mira’s face, at the way the light kissed her cheekbones, at the way her hands moved like they already knew her.
Mira leaned in, close but not touching, her voice low and steady. “Is this okay?”
Rumi nodded, biting her lip, her heart thudded hard against her ribcage.
Mira blushed seeing that all Rumi was wearing underneath was a thong, the thin strap of fabric hopelessly soaked though. She tugged it aside with her thumb, dipping her finger into Rumi’s heat, testing. Rumi’s head flew back with a loud gasp. Mira took it as an invitation. She leaned in with a simple drag of her tongue. Rumi’s hips jolted up at the contact.
“You are so pretty like this,” Mira hummed. She leaned in again, her mouth warm, deliberate, and her eyes never leaving Rumi’s face. Rumi didn’t know where to look—her gaze flicked between the sky and Mira, breath catching as her fingers tangled in Mira’s hair, not pulling, just anchoring. The pleasure was building fast, coiling tight in her belly.
The colors of the sunset spilled across the horizon—streaks of gold and brilliant pink bleeding into violet. It was the most stunning view she’d ever seen. The last light of the sun, and Mira’s hungry gaze.
Every brush of Mira’s tongue, every press of her lips was electrifying. Rumi struggled to keep her hips still, grinding into Mira’s mouth, searching for more friction.
Mira took note of every moan and whimper that left Rumi’s lips. Experimenting, testing, teasing. She closed her lips around Rumi’s swollen nub, and sucked gently.
A half-scream of pleasure ripped though Rumi. “Ahh… fuck…”
Mira did it again, then tentatively, slipped a finger into Rumi’s opening, curling it.
“Oh my god, ohmygod, -“ Rumi was reduced to incoherent mumbling, her head thrown back eyes closed chasing the pleasure higher. Mira added another.
“Mira, I’m so close –“
Mira quickened her pace, fingers dragging in and out, curling just right. Her tongue worked in tandem not letting up, setting a devastating rhythm. She felt Rumi’s body go taut beneath her, muscles locking with tension before she shuddered, a breathy moan escaping her lips. She fucked her though the orgasm, feeling each waive as Rumi spasmed around her fingers. She stayed there steady, until Rumi’s breathing turned deep and slow, her chest rising in soft waves.
Only then did Mira pull away, her movements gentle, unhurried. She placed one last kiss on the inside of Rumi’s thigh—soft.
“Wow,” Rumi whispered, voice barely there.
“Yeah. Wow,” Mira echoed, her own voice thick with awe and affection. She shifted up, resting her head on Rumi’s stomach, cheek pressed to the soft silk of the dress. Rumi’s fingers found her hair, brushing through it slowly, rhythmically – a comfort and a thank you.
They lay like that for a while, the sky above them deepening into twilight, the last streaks of orange fading into indigo.
Rumi laughed.
It started as a breathy chuckle, then grew louder, spilling out of her like she couldn’t hold it in. Mira lifted her head, brows raised, watching her with amused confusion.
“What?” she asked.
Rumi covered her face with one hand, the other still tangled in Mira’s hair. “I just—” she shook her head, laughter bubbling again. “I just had sex with a stranger. Outside. At sunset. Me.”
Mira grinned, resting her chin on Rumi’s stomach. “You’re calling me a stranger now?”
Rumi peeked at her through her fingers, eyes sparkling with disbelief and something warmer. “You were a stranger just hours ago. And now you’re… this.” She gestured vaguely at Mira, sprawled between her legs, flushed and smug and entirely too pleased with herself.
Mira smirked. “This?”
“Yeah,” Rumi said, laughing softly. “An alleged electrician who just gave me the best orgasm I’ve had in years. Outside. In the grass.”
Mira raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Are you trying to say you like me or something?”
Rumi dropped her hand, her gaze steady now. “God, I like you a lot,” she said, the words landing with quiet sincerity.
