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Zoey was by nature a morning person; possessed of a nearly boundless supply of energy, she was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed the moment that she snapped to consciousness, typically before her alarm sounded.
Or, at least, she faked it until she maked it.
Which was just the kind of linguistic contortion that rendered her a lyrical genius.
Mira, on the other hand, required some cajoling even on the good days, rather than the ones after particularly gruelling demon hunts that were, thankfully, in the rear-view mirror at this point due to the weaving of the rainbow Honmoon.
Not that they were getting too much sleep despite their functional retirement from demon slaying.
Which had nothing whatsoever to do, sadly, with demon laying - something Zoey presumed would be equally strenuous in a fun way - even when they retired to Rumi's bedroom for platonic cuddles.
Nope. No demon laying on their itinerary.
Last night, it had been a rather raucous Karaoke session, complete with Ameritrash pop songs ranging from Rock You Like a Hurricane to... something else that Zoey couldn't remember because she was plastered by the third cocktail and that rendered most of the night a heady and hazy blur. The only vague recollection from those hours – and, according to the timestamps on the selfies she'd reviewed on the phone that was currently resting in her flannel pj bottoms' pocket, they had come in at around 4:00AM so there were quite a few hours spent both at the Karaoke place and in some bar-hopping afterwards – were wispy tendrils.
But, despite waking up to an ice-pick-in-her-skull hangover, Zoey was not about to let trivialities spoil her upbeat morning mood.
She did have to wash the taste of an ash-tray from her mouth, though, a concerning savour for multiple reasons not the least of which being the fact that she didn't smoke.
Not even casually, like Mira.
That suggested things.
Not bad things.
But things that Zoey would rather remember clearly because the ever-growing stockpile of Zomira fodder in her brain could do with some I Kissed a Girl and I Liked It – Oh yeah! That's it. That was the song that Rumi chose for them to sing for probably no reason because Zoey shouldn't read into things. – drunken debauchery.
Totally for the shipping segments of the fandom.
Had to validate those fan-interests and be a good and supportive idol.
Just Zoey being a people-pleaser when it came to the fans, again.
If she had to make out with a hot bandmate in public for the fans, she was prepared to make that sacrifice.
Take one for the team, as it were.
That team being woefully underrepresented bisexuals.
And the one being Mira's strap.
For reasons of ash-tray mouth, Zoey now found herself in the palatial bathroom of their penthouse suite, porcelain-white tiled floors cool under the pads of her feet as she stood before the massive and sparkling clean mirror, inlaid with what was probably faux-gold filigree as decorative ornamentation along the sides. Fingers jammed into her scuzzy mouth, flossing out a few particles of foodstuff because good girls whose mouths tasted like stale beer and tobacco should really floss before and after a solid five-minute brushing, she loosed some gurgling hums, swaying and bopping in time to the mangled snippets of last evening's playlist that fluttered in and out of her brain.
That was when Mira, clad in frumpy jogging pants and, for some reason, one of Zoey's TMNT tee-shirts that only reached her belly-button which was, as it turned out, precisely the correct length for Mira to expose half of her eight-pack, slouched in through the open door, looking all the worse for wear.
Mira, that is, and not the door. The door was really rather pretty. Great paint scheme and colour coordination.
Kudos to the interior design team.
The redhead's, well, redhead was a mass of tangles that Zoey's fingers itched to savage, put through the metaphorical ringer by soaping up the strands as she sat behind her bandmate in the spacious tub, rinsing out those lusciously lengthy locks of hair before applying conditioner and spending a relaxing morning untangling and brushing spun silk as Mira sighed contentedly and slumped against her petite form.
Dark bulging bruises bloomed under bloodshot eyes, crying out for some coffee, concealer, and a couple of kisses like any other boo-boo, of course.
That could wait, though.
"'ornin'" Zoey enthused with her hands halfway inside her mouth; she had to be sure to really get in deep as she worked her molars, jaw nearly unhinged like a serpent, before the mirror.
Something akin to the snore of a hibernating bear erupted from Mira's mouth in reply. Staggering to a stop, though she swayed on jelly-knees for a second like she was warring against the momentum that threatened to cause her to pitch over and face-plant to the floor, Mira groped about for her toothbursh on the countertop. It was possible that Mira was partially blind sans her glasses because she missed a few times.
Enough times for Zoey to reach out and hand the toothbrush to her directly.
Then the toothpaste.
Which Mira tried to squeeze out prior to removing the cap.
Zoey took care of that easily-forgettable piece of minutiae herself, too.
The couple of failed attempts at aligning the nozzle with the brush, which resulted in some spurts of minty-paste slopping onto the countertop, were slightly more concerning, but Mira got the hang of it in the end.
Blinking away crusty sleep dust, aided by the fingers that she nearly rammed through her blurry eyes and out the other side of her skull, Mira started working away on her teeth, Zoey joining her only a moment later.
They were surprisingly in sync.
Must have been all the shared choreography.
"'ey girls," came a groan from the doorway, where Rumi was staggering into the bathroom in Zoey's peripheral vision. Ever one to properly reciprocate a polite greeting, especially since Rumi was probably just as messed up with her hangover as Mira, Zoey, some foamy trails of toothpaste arcing down her chin and cheeks plumped up like a chipmunk with spit, turned to face her bandmate.
There Rumi stood, one hand splayed over her belly, darkened half-clawlike fingernails carding along the shapely and mountainous terrain of her abdominals, on display because her tanktop had ridden up, exposing not just the delicately feminine musculature but also a thin strip of purple hair that extended to the edge of her tight spandex shorts. The forest of near violet strands, standing out starkly against the more pallid skin of her belly, was almost vibrant, blooming larger as it crept downwards into the material that was stretched taut over her hips and thighs, leaving nothing of her curves and contours to the imagination. It was as if she had just waltzed into the room fully naked.
Just as disheveled as Mira, Rumi, eyes still half-welded together, swayed and lurched into the room, blinking owlishly and loosing a yawn that exposed glittering pearly fangs like those of a cat, an impression only intensified by the languid arching of her spine in a stretch and sinuous roll of her shoulders and back. Her chest pressed outwards and forward so that she offered both Zoey - who was currently making a mess of herself, and not just due to her slopping toothpaste all over her shirt, froth dripping down from her open mouth - and Mira, looking like she was about to snap off a hunk of the countertop she was clutching to keep herself from toppling over, a fairly clear impression of Rumi's nipples against the thin, almost sheer fabric of her white tank top.
Like a cat stretching after a good nap in a sunbeam.
Also like a cat... most cats that Zoey was familiar with at least, she was not wearing a bra.
Who wore a bra to sleep? Unnatural.
That wasn't the only thing on display, though.
A hint of the edge of her black panties' strap peaked out from the edge of her waistband.
Still completely frozen as if ensorcelled, keeping up that Zomira synchronization 'cause they were clearly vibing together, Zoey and Mira just stared, necks craned downwards, as Rumi's hand drifted lower, fingertips slipping into her shorts by just a centimetre, enough to drag down the fabric and expose another, duskier thatch of pubic hair that she scratched idly.
And, just beneath that-
The massive, shapely bulge.
No.
Scratch that.
The massive, shapely girlbulge.
Way better than guy bulge for reasons that Zoey did not have the mental processing capacity to contemplate at this juncture possibly because she was suddenly feeling just about as intoxicated as she had been while blackout drunk last night.
The outlined package was straining angrily against Rumi's shorts as if it was not meant, per the dictates of natural law, to be constrained but free to hang loose and low. A heavy swell beneath the obvious imprint of Rumi's shaft, her balls formed a taut pouch below the impression of the shaft.
Zoey's toothbrush clattered to the countertop as Rumi ambled over to the third sink and turned on the tap to splash some warm water on her face.
"Eh-pleghbleh!-" Zoey attempted to reply to Rumi's initial greeting, forgetting to spit or swallow the remnants of toothpaste and saliva in her mouth.
Fortunately, Mira had her back.
"G-good morning, Rumi." Mira's voice faltered and cracked with some near pubescent vocal fry at the end, but Zoey was sufficiently impressed that her girlfriend was able to form even the one coherent sentence at all.
After turning her head to hack out the rest of the toothpaste, never taking her dilated eyes off of the hypnotic curve between Rumi's thighs, the shorts clinging on as if for dear life so that Zoey could nearly make out the texture of Rumi's pubic hair.
Why were those shorts so tight?
It was not morally licit by any means.
Clinging on to that bulge, perhaps even tighter than Zoey herself would be glomming onto it were she in their place.
Lucky shorts.
Life was unfair.
Why hadn't she been born as a pair of shorts?
Apparently Mira had greater presence of mind than Zoey at this juncture because, for posterity's sake, she managed to invest her time productively, unlike Zoey who still stood stupefied, when Rumi rose up from the steaming sink, face flushed pink and glistening, a few streaks of water running down from her hairline.
Though she fumbled with it for a second because it wasn't as if she could actually look at the darn thing while navigating through her apps by muscle memory, Mira still managed to snap off a few shaky and seemingly surreptitious shots with her cell phone camera.
They'd mull over the moral legitimacy of those later.
Now was not the time for thinking.
No.
Thinking was not possible at this particular juncture.
Zoey's brain had checked out of the building.
While drying her face with one of the hand towels, Rumi mumbled sleepily as if speaking to the wall next to her, "Rough night?"
"Nope!" Zoey managed to pop cheerily, nodding for some reason, rather than shaking her head, like a desktop drinking bird.
Nope. Not at all. The night could have been so much rougher and she'd have been a-okay with it!
"Great," Rumi replied through another yawn before licking her lips in a fashion that was as unfair as everything else on display and everything else concealed, too.
Rumi standing there half-nude and with a ruddied complexion and that jiggling, shapely, voluptuous, awesome... awesome-
Hot girlbulge!
Maybe hot girl bulge.
Or even hotgirl bulge because fuck that was a thing Zoey knew as she stared unabashedly at the impression of Rumi's cock in those spandex sleeping shorts, the shaft curled down and over the scrotum so that the ripples and ridges stood out as obvious just like the bulbous curves at the base.
All three were the sexiest thing in existence.
All utterly unfair.
"Oh, man," Mira breathed out in a husky groan as she slumped against the bathroom counter again, using it to support her sagging weight. Her eyes were narrowed pinpricks, giving her an air of hyperfocus somewhat akin to the one she adopted before delving into a horde of demons in order to, functionally, eat them alive.
Which seemed apt for this situation too.
Zoey told the bad thoughts to go away because her girls were both hungover and now was not the time, even as Rumi, with another fanged yawn, mouth stretching wide, turned back towards the living area just outside the bathroom and stretched her arms above her head. A rippling panoply of muscles shifted under the tight straps of her tanktop, arches of her shoulder blades straining against the fabric.
"I'm going to go put on some coffee," she said, voice hitching due to the lingering yawn, while she made for the kitchen.
And reminded Zoey of that tried and true expression: I hate to see her go, but I love watching her leave.
Coming - Oh, fuck, yes! - and leaving were both pretty great, actually.
When the other girl was well out of earshot, Mira loosed a huff of air and locked eyes with Zoey, saying, with all the gravitas and sincerity of a woman making a world-ending proclamation, "We've got to go to the beach today."
Strange, that.
Zoey's nose crinkled up.
"Uh, why?" she asked while staring at Mira's flushed cheeks, nearly as red as her still-tangled hair.
Mira's brow cocked...
Hmm. Cocked...
The bad thoughts were winning again.
Not that they'd ever been in retreat despite Zoey's best efforts.
"Three words." As if to emphasize this point, Mira raised up her fist and began to count them off one at a time. "Rumi. Bikini. Bulge."
Purple-hued, ridged, and rippling girlpenis spilling out over the patch of fabric that cradled and, sopping wet, clung like a second skin to the heavy contours of succulent orbs crisscrossed with faintly-self-luminous demonic patterns that shone through diaphanous material as Rumi rose like a succubus and sea nymph from the surf, rivulets of water trailing the sculpted lines of sinew, rolling down over her hipbones, and getting lost in the forested tangle of purple hairs that stretched up to her belly button, slick and glistening...
Zoey swallowed thickly, her mouth having gone suddenly dry, all the watermains in her body suddenly having been diverted to areas that needed hydration all the more desperately.
"... fuck," she croaked while suddenly beset by a swoon.
"That's my point." Mira shot her a fingergun, which was kind of dorky, but Zoey was a little too busy to care, groping for her cell phone on the counter and logging onto her Amazon Prime account.
She had to put in an order for seventeen different variations of string, strap, micro, and minikinis.
Thank you gods for same-day delivery.
Zoey needed all those packages today.