Soul might have been able to resist his meister's advances had his body not been downgraded to the status of a kishin cutting board. There may have been some possibility of leaving the situation with his pants on, and manhood still intact, had he not just been subjected to the most wonderful and torturous treatment of his young life, at the behest of his meister's new-found abilities. There might have been more control of the situation if he would just learn to keep his big mouth shut wherever Maka was concerned.
But under the circumstances, with a large, purple, pulsating object threatening to bombard his backdoor in the next five seconds, and his meister above him with a crushing otherworldly hold on him that any general infantryman would kill for, resistance seemed to be the most unlikely option at that point.
The scythe could barely lift himself off the mattress anymore. Yes, his wounds were excruciating. He wanted to kick the damn kishin's ass the next time they crossed paths. Better yet, if it were possible, he'd love to hunt the bastard down and show him what for, in the off chance that Asura had suddenly developed the spiritual power of a little girl upon their next encounter. Which seemed extremely unlikely given personal experience and the epic pounding he'd received earlier. However, his current predicament was far more disconcerting than a cross with any kishin he could recall.
Somehow, the object in her hand seemed to double in size. Maybe that was just his brain's skewed interpretation at the prospective activities Maka was contemplating. Or maybe it was really that fucking big.
She could sense his major bout of hesitation without even asking. Her eyes refusing to meet his and the blush on her face spoke mountains and caverns about her true intentions. She was unsure of herself. He was unsure about everything, too. Dear God, where had this brazenness come from? However, scattered among the confusion were specklings of curiosity. She was curious. Her soul was screeching questions and concerns at him like a four-year-old at an amusement park. What is safe to do? Does he trust me enough? What if I'm overstepping my bounds? Will he hate me for all eternity?
All the while, she failed to halt the object's movement across his clammy skin, making it exceedingly impossible for him to refuse anything her over-sexed brain could conjure up. When had she started to run the object over his chest in slow, repeating motions that sent tingles straight to the tips of his toes? Hell, when had she turned him over onto his back again without brushing against his injuries and making him squeal like a little bitch? Soul quickly came to the conclusion that her hands must be made of pure magic and rainbows, and he'd need to patent their magnificent power the next time he could fucking think straight.
Her tongue in his mouth distracted from the sudden vibrations caused by the menace's impromptu introduction to his pebble-hard nipples. Damn, but that thing was loud, and excessively stimulating, to boot. He couldn't stifle the moan that escaped as she circled first one, and then the other of his pecs with the tip of the gyrating demon. His hands flew to her hips and squeezed when she replaced the neglected one with her tongue, and began mimicking its actions with her own hot, wet appendage. The hand not occupied with turning his skin to putty slowly skimmed down his muscular chest until Little Soul was firmly and happily within her grasp, already erect, aching, and weeping at the tip for whatever his meister had in store for the next round.
Her eyes suddenly begged the question "Can I?", with that face not even the most evil kishin could deny, and he momentarily damned himself to hell for not having the balls to inquire as to the exact meaning of her unvoiced request. He soon discovered, however, that perhaps questioning her motives was downright asinine, when the hand gripping the vibrator also suddenly enclosed his dick in its grasp. As the thing roared to life, she used both hands to squeeze the two shafts harder together, and when his spine vertically bowed at the sensation of that thing stimulating him right therebetween his legs, Soul made an instant and solemn vow to never, ever again, even under pain of death, deny his partner anything. Unless her safety was involved, then they'd have to ta-AAAALK!
Twitching hands gripped the sheets, and knobby knees and heels pushed themselves into the mattress to gain better leverage. Her weapon's hips rose off the bed and seemed to be fucking the air itself, which proved rather difficult while the meister was sitting right on his legs, making any sort of movement difficult at best. Scooting herself forward and placing her covered heat directly on top of his business, Soul was unprepared for the unmanly gasp he elicited at the sudden addition of a hot, wet, horny Maka pussy inadvertently inviting itself into the fray.
Not that he fucking cared for shit. And neither did she, when a subsequent and uncontrollable upward thrust of his hips sent her naughty bits careening directly into the object's wake, and his throbbing predicament.
He didn't think it was possible for eyes to literally roll back into one's head. Or for her to squeeze his dick and the vibrator together so tightly it was a miracle there was no loss of circulation to Little Soul or her red, swollen hands. He'd voiced multiple times that the sound of a moaning, whimpering, lustful Maka was the primary reason ears were invented. This time was no exception.
Her hips began rocking into his of their own accord. The impact of her lower half colliding with his dick and the buzzing bundle of ecstasy still being gripped for dear life in her hands was almost enough to send her over the edge. Almost. He couldn't see them because of her skirt, but he could definitely feel something made of damp, moist, and slick cotton rubbing against him with every movement of strong hips. Damn it, she still had her panties on! Soul decided that this was surely the most unforgivable sin. One to be repented of immediately, even if he had to play Anti-God and help the sinner along.
Her control of his body waned somewhat at the advent of genital-vibrator gymnastics, so he took the opportunity to do the only thing that made any sort of sense to his befuddled brain. A single hand, suddenly changing itself into a striped blade of sexual justice, forced a clean slice through her underwear, skirt, and shirt, starting at the hip, ripping them clear off her body without a second thought or apology. Any complaint of Maka's was immediately silenced at the feeling of warm, slick rubber vibrating directly against her swollen clit, no longer impeded by the inconvenience of a barrier, and his hands against her modest mounds, skin to glorious skin.
She didn't have time to question his attempt at tangible words, and he didn't bother elaborating further. Mindful of his injuries, and confirming over the link that yes, she needed to let off the gas and give him a chance to fucking drive for once, woman!, Soul pulled himself into an upright position and crushed her body to his chest as lightly as possible, positioning them carefully so that her wetness touched Little Soul and the menace simultaneously. Maka slid to the base of them both with the aid of gravity, switching the vibrator into second gear on the way down. Weapon and meister unabashedly cried out to the ceiling in unison, sending a guttural reminder to the entire apartment complex that both of them were screamers.
Soul's hands flew to her ass, crashing her down harder on their tormentor, and causing the most high-pitched squeal to erupt from her mouth.
"There?" he chuckled, despite the amount of sheer ampage still racking his own person.
Both of Maka's hands moved to his broad shoulders out of a need for something, anything, to hold on to, and her face became lost in the skin of his chest. Her harsh and ragged breath was rough against the wounds there, but the minuscule pain was secondary to the unbelievable sight of his meister getting off with him simultaneously in his lap. Soul picked up the slack by grabbing his dick and the vibe in one hand, and holding her dripping sex against them both with the other.
He was definitely going to come first at this rate. It was especially obvious when he could sense through the link that she was trying to hold back. She would let off the pressure long enough to press her lips to his own, caressing the inside of his mouth with her tongue and sending his senses not already on a roller coaster on a joy ride of their own. Well, this simply would not do. At all.
He refused to deny his gentlemanly duties just because he was cut up like a Christmas turkey. However skewed and partially dead those might be.
Reaching between them like a predator in stealth mode, his finger made its way to her clit, and she nearly screamed when he caressed it gently. Lips moving along his neck frantically, and legs tightening around his hips of their own volition, she couldn't halt the waves that shook her entire form at the addition of the added stimulus. She was coming in his lap, and it was all he could do to ride it out without coming undone himself.
At the sound of her name, she exploded, literally and figuratively, hands in his hair and lips moving frantically against his own a feeble attempt at staying grounded, while the pure essence of what makes Maka a woman essentially soaked his dick and the toy in its heat.
But she wasn't through with him yet. Even if she had just experienced one of the most extreme and earth-shattering orgasms of her life. Not by a long shot. Soul had denied her the satisfaction of witnessing her lover reaching that same pinnacle along with her. This experience was supposed to be entirely about him, but like the typical backseat driver, he'd sent them careening in an entirely different direction.
Maka intended to utilize the knowledge that Soul wasn't a raging homophobe. He had ruined any guise of complete heterosexuality after the development of a raging hard-on as a result of not only her previous actions, but from a dildo stimulating his junk, as well. Could she get him to lose control in the same manner that always made her weak in the knees and jelly on the floor, among other things? She was certainly going to try.
Again he was pushed to his back on the bed. Crawling on top of him and facing away, toned, well-defined legs positioned his meister over the part of him that wanted to join with her the most. Rising to his elbows, a glance at her tense shoulders and the way sinew-like muscle flexed beneath soft skin illustrated clearly her need to get down to business. Give him a ride he would never forget. Under normal circumstances, he would definitely have no objections.
Except she seemed so damn obligated to pay him back. For what? Risking his life? That was his own shitty prerogative. And something he would never stop doing. Not even if she threatened his life. Which may seem rather counter-productive, but he wouldn't put it past her. Her bookworm mentality more often than not indicated severe deprivation of any semblance of common sense whatsoever.
His tip eased passed her inner walls, and Soul's pupils were again introduced to the backs of his eyelids. With an uncomfortable grunt and difficulty on her part getting situated correctly, he realized he may have to take matters into his own hands after all. If she would let him, that is. She seemed pretty determined to do this herself, but while the endearing notion of Maka taking the initiative turned him up hotter than a volcano in a steam room, her inexperience and virgin-like mannerisms left him no other choice than to show her how it's done.
Panicked, the blond squeezed him tighter on accident. The resulting hiss passing through his teeth could convince anyone not looking that they were boiling water.
"No! Um...I just...ow...ow...fucking OW!"
He chose to ignore the fact that she'd accidentally let one slip. "Hold up! Wait. Here."
Turning her back around to face him, and positioning her knees on either side of his hips for better mobility, the weapon helped ease her onto his pulsing shaft. Keeping her hips locked firmly in his palms, slowly, one inch at a time, they used gravity to guide her body down to its final completion. When he was fully encased in her hot, moist heat, she couldn't contain the gasp that escaped in that culminating moment.
Soul chuckled through his own hoarse moan. "It's better...this way. I can see..." Looking forward to where their bodies were joined, Maka couldn't stop the blush that engulfed her sweating countenance.
"Don't say that!"
"Not yet it's not. Are you gonna do it or what?"
Her innocent, questioning expression could make him come all by itself if he wasn't careful.
"Whatever it is you were gonna do with...that."
Chucking it up from the covers and shoving the purple object into her hand, Maka fumbled a bit when she realized that he'd been listening in. To her head. And all her wicked, crazy ideas. That involved her weapon and the rigid menace currently in her grasp. The blush intensified ten-fold.
Warm lips met hers in a collision of teeth and tongue as he sat up to her level. The motion caused him to shift hurriedly inside her, resulting in a very near scream on her part. She shivered when his fangs engulfed her oral muscle and pricked it lightly, tiny pin points of pressure that had her whimpering in their wake. She wanted to consume him until there was nothing left. And likewise, he had no problem with letting her.
Foreheads pressing together as they gasped for breath, Maka had never before seen such a soft look in her weapon's eyes. He was usually extremely fierce during sex, but something about the way he moved, looked, and acted this time indicated that something major had changed. Or was going to change.
"You can do whatever the hell you want, Maka. I'm yours...a-and I trust you."
With that, he reached over and turned the thing in her hand up to the highest setting possible. It whirred to life, and the drooling grin on his face only got wider at the sound.
Well. Who was she to argue with that kind of invitation?
It was a first for Maka in the dominant position. Like so many other encounters in his bed, it took some time for her to become accustomed to being in control. But she quickly learned that rolling her hips forward and down, as well as using those internal muscles to squeeze him like a wet clamp with every pass, ensured the loudest and longest vocalizations possible from the weapon beneath her. Their hands clasped together on his chest, and with each roll of her body to meet his own, each was convinced that they could make it to the moon and back on ecstasy alone.
When Maka brought her little friend into the mix, Soul would later swear that he'd passed the boundaries of the Milky Way and actually caught a glimpse of Proxima Centauri somewhere in the realm of transient planets and stars. With each caress of the object against his neglected testicles, somewhere a sun exploded in a cavalcade of brilliant and bright supernovas. Although there was no actual penetration (thank Shinigami!), his shout at the movement and vibrations felt in the general vicinity of his own opening were loud enough to be heard far past the domain of Neptune.
As they cuddled beneath the blankets in the aftermath, which Soul was wont to do in the tastes of a certain cuddle-bugged meister, he made her vow to never. Ever. EVER. Upon pain of her mother's honor. Let slip one inkling of a detail about the night's events. Or the many, many sounds he could make, along with the respective methods of getting them out of him.
She agreed. Until Blair suddenly appeared in the room, and blackmailed Soul into being her personal house slave for a month. After he recovered, of course. Apparently, she'd been hiding under the bed the entire time, sleeping snugly in a pile of dirty shirts and underwear. With a CHOP! to the cranium, Maka painfully reminded her weapon that doing laundry once in a while might be a good idea. For her sake, as well as his.
c h a o s v i p e r . t u m b l r . c o m
Come stalk me and I might reciprocate!