Title: Interlude.
Characters/Pairings: Maka Albarn/Death the Kid.
Summary: He watches and learns.
Rating: M.
Spoilers: None.
Word Count: 1095.
Notes: Takes place in some unspecified time in the future. Also, as a warning: this story contains sexual content. Although it's nothing too graphic or crude, if such themes bother you or make you uncomfortable, you may not want to read.


Maka's eyes are flickering back and forth between him and the floor. A blush lines her cheeks; he can't decide whether it's because of her embarrassment or the steam of the shower. Or maybe it's his own intense stare, watching her every move in favor of catching every minute detail. She remains silent, however, and—with a rigid quirk of her head—gently lets her hair fall over her shoulder blades in disarray. Hands stay folded against his chest, not knowing what else to do with them, and she simply breathes. Takes this all in, swallows hard. He feels the air around them shift with every rise and fall of her chest. How her tiny breasts press up against him. Every shiver.

Kid, if nothing else, is a highly observant individual. It's one more reason why he can find the true beauty in symmetry; it gives him reason to notice. Helps him see the little things in people, where others would pass it off as unnecessary. But, he thinks, eyes watching the water slide down the swell of her breasts with great intent—every detail is necessary. It's all needed in order to piece everything together, to make it perfect. To just know. He understands this now, which is why he can't bear to look away from her. Maybe if he were younger, and less aware of exactly how beautiful a naked woman could be, but he's not so ashamed of that anymore. She deserves to be adored, to be gazed upon with reverence and pure love.

"Maka," he says. His voice is heavy, resolute. "You're beautiful."

He sees the way her eyes widen, how her hands slowly slide over his back and hesitantly wrap around him. Hugging him close. Her hair slaps against wet tiles, and he notices her inching forward just a little.

"Don't you mean symmetrical?" she asks. Still blushing. Leaning up. Mouth pressing to the corner of his lips.

"That, too. But I mean beautiful." His hands grip her hips. He holds her tightly and picks her up. She's watching him now, even as he lifts her off the ground and pushes her up against the shower wall. He wonders if that's how he looks like right now: bright-eyed and slightly awed.

He kisses her, and she kisses him back, fingers threading themselves through his hair. He can feel the water pounding at his back, feel the way her thighs open for him, how her legs wrap around his waist.

He nearly chokes, and once she sinks down some more, he's inside of her. He presses his face into the crook of her neck, lips finding her wet skin, and just closes his eyes and moves against her. He can hear his name tumbling from her lips every now and then, a call, a plea, and he holds her tighter, mumbles something unintelligible in response. It might be her name, or something a little more meaningful, or nothing at all, but Maka understands.

She arches against him, pelvis thrusting towards his; her head bumps against the shower wall, her wet hair clinging to the surface and thrown every this way and that. Something in him pushes him to fix it, and he quickly utters an apology before one of his hands reaches up to move her hair so that it was --

Maka lets out a squeak. "Kid-kun! You'd better not drop me," she orders, clinging to him. Her legs wrapped around him only serve to push him further inside of her.

-- better.

"M-Maka..." he whimpers, hips jerking against her automatically. His hand gently touches her hair, still wanting to fix it, but all he can do in that moment is touch her, hold her, bring them both pleasure.

He sees her watching him now, hears her giggle and feels her press herself close to him. "I'll let you fix it later," she promises.

His eyes light up, and he smiles, and finds himself grateful that she's here with him. He lowers his head and presses soft, fleeting kisses against her brow, cheeks, and mouth. "Am I hurting you?" he asks quietly, remembering how she'd gotten an injury on their mission, how they'd arrived at Gallows Mansion and how him letting her use his shower eventually became... this. Briefly, he still wonders how they got here at all, but his attention still remains firmly fixed on her. He just hopes this isn't putting a strain on her.

"No, I'm fine," she reassures him. "It's not a big deal."

"All right. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't --" he gasps when her inner walls tighten around his length. "...You need to stop doing that."

She giggles again, and kisses his worried frown away until he finds it in himself to continue and let his concern melt away for the time being.

Soon enough, they finish: white flashes across his vision, and he moans, or almost does; her mouth against his muffles the sound. When it's over, he gently sets her down to stand on the linoleum, underneath the shower head. They finish their shower together, letting the soap and subs wash away and into the drain. He watches her step out and wrap a towel around herself, and he does the same, moving closer to her so that he could press his fingers into her back. When she turns to look at him, he just nudges her in the direction of his room room.

He brushes the tangles and knots out of her hair, like he'd wanted to do earlier. She lets him, and he goes about his work with tender care, as if anything else was entirely unacceptable. It takes him awhile, and for the most part Maka remains patient, pressing soft kisses against the inside of his wrist every now and then when he runs the comb through. But when he's finally done, he can't help but admire his work, admire her -- she's absolutely beautiful, and he takes this moment to tell her so for a second time that night.

Despite everything they've done tonight, Maka blushes. "Ah... thank you," she says. Whether it's for brushing her hair or for the compliment, he's unsure of, but that really doesn't matter to him.

Sooner or later, she's drifting off, and watching him with sleepy eyes as he tugs a blanket down over her. He sees her small smile when he wraps himself up right along with her, feels her inch closer into his chest when he wraps his arms around her.

Before long, dawn is here.