The impact is definitely not gentle this time. The mattress dips hard beneath you as Rumi crashes down on top of you, knees planting on either side of your hips with zero hesitation. The bed lets out a dull creak under the sudden weight, and whatever dream you were clinging to shatters instantly.
“Wake. Up.”
Her voice is low and amused, breathless with energy. One hand slaps down beside your head while the other grabs your shoulder and gives you a sharp shake, like she’s trying to rattle you awake through sheer force of personality.
You groan, half-asleep, instinctively trying to roll away—but she’s already there, shifting her weight to keep you pinned. Her thighs tighten around you, solid and unyielding, and she lets out a pleased laugh when you stop moving.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Rumi says, grinning wide. “Stay put.”
Before you can protest, her mouth is on you—hot, insistent kisses pressed along your jaw, down the side of your neck. They’re not careful or slow. She kisses like she fights: fast, confident, and a little overwhelming. Her teeth scrape lightly against your skin, just enough to make you tense before she soothes it with another kiss.
Her hands roam without hesitation. One slides under your shirt, palm warm and firm against your stomach as she presses you back into the mattress again when you instinctively arch up. The other grips your wrist and pins it above your head, fingers curling tight but controlled.
“Seriously,” she mutters against your neck, voice buzzing with energy, “how are you still asleep?” Her ears flick, brushing lightly against your face as she shifts closer, and then she pauses. Just for a second.
Her thumb drags slowly along your neck, tracing the faint marks she left there last night. She follows them carefully, eyes sharp and satisfied, like she’s inspecting her work.
“…Damn,” she says, clearly pleased. “Still there.”
She presses down gently at one of the marks—not enough to hurt, just enough to get a reaction—and laughs when you stir.
“Thought so.”
Her mouth returns to your neck, layering new kisses over old ones, rougher now. She nips lightly, then lingers, breath warm against your skin. One of her legs hooks over your waist, anchoring herself there like she has no intention of letting you escape anytime soon.
Her fingers slip into your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head where she wants it. Her nails scratch along your scalp, down the back of your neck, sending a sharp, grounding sensation through you.
“Relax,” Rumi says, smug and breathless. “If I wanted to actually hurt you, you’d know.”
She eases up just a fraction, her grip loosening without fully letting go. Her forehead rests against yours, her breathing steady despite the energy practically radiating off her. One hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing your skin with surprising care.
“You good?” she asks—still intense, still rough around the edges, but genuine.
Before you can answer properly, she kisses you again. This one is slower, firmer, lingering just long enough to steal your breath before she pulls back with a crooked grin.
“Good,” she decides.
She shifts her weight slightly, still straddling you, clearly enjoying the way you’re completely stuck beneath her. Her hands trail down your arms, squeezing your wrists, then sliding back up to your shoulders.
“You slept in,” Rumi adds, like it’s a personal offense. “I was up for hours. Training. Stretching. Getting bored.”
Her ears twitch again as she leans down, brushing her nose against yours before kissing your neck one more time—less rough now, but still possessive.
“So I figured I’d fix that.”
She straightens just enough to look down at you properly, eyes bright and cocky, a familiar, feral grin on her face.
“Next time,” she says lightly, “you wake up before I have to jump you.”
Her hands tighten briefly on your shoulders, playful but strong, before she finally eases off just a little—still hovering, still close, clearly not done touching you.
“But until then,” Rumi adds, leaning back in with a grin, “you’re mine to wake up however I feel like.”