I Live To Serve You
Poisoned Scarlet

Summary: He blames the candles Stein gave him.
Rating: M for graphic sexual themes.
Genre: Romance.
Pairing: Soul/Maka.
Authors Note: I can't explain this. It just wrote itself, alright? I don't want to question why I would write something like this, using that particular theme, but I did and that's that. Besides, I had various readers ask me to write something like this (okay, not necessarily using this theme - that was all me!). I really hope I don't disappoint you guys...and if I do, I apologize for disillusioning you.
Story Notes: A friendly warning: Soul and Maka, especially Maka, might appear OOC but that is due to the influence of the emotion heightening candles Stein gave to Soul. Regardless, I tried my hardest to keep Maka and Soul within believable bounds!

It all began when he lit those candles, following Stein's strange instruction to light them up when they had enough time to spare and when they were both in a peaceful mood.

The atmosphere had been calm, undisturbed, as he watched television and she indulged in her latest novel. The subtle scent that emanated from the candles soothed their stressed, caused an unexplainable amount of tranquility to blanket them.

Everything would have continued perfectly had the noise level from the television not spiked her irritation.

"Can you please turn the music off?" Maka asks, barely able to restrain her ire, her fingers digging into the hardcover of her book. The sudden switch from the news anchor's monotonous drone to the upbeat tracks of jazz didn't settle well with her.

"Why? It isn't hurting anyone." Soul fires back, rebelliously grabbing the remote the increasing the volume.

She takes a deep breath. Somehow this only makes her anger worse. "Soul. Turn it off."


"Soul Eater."

"Make me." He smirks, challengingly.

Fury flashes in her eyes. "As your meister, I demand you turn it off now."

Soul clenches his teeth at the dirty tactic, fixing her with a burning stare for a second before finally turning off the television. But his blistering glower does not waver and neither does her own.

Their emotions are climbing wildly like flames, the candles that Soul lit up an hour ago barely melting. The scent has gone from pleasant to disturbing; a suffocating fog that wraps around them, choking them.

"There." Soul bit, tossing the control by his side. "Happy now?"

"Hardly." She sneers.

His eyes darken and he's striding to her before she can say anything else. He leans over her as she straightens in the chair, the edge of the dinning table jabbing at her side. His scarlet eyes are fierce, dark, and she can see the sharp razors he has for teeth as he hisses: "Then what would make you happy, Maka?"

Maka slams her book on the table. She's fed up with his high and mighty attitude; he has been hanging out with Black Star far too much for her tastes. She stands, screeching the chair away with her foot. "Maybe if you listened to me more often, things wouldn't get so screwed up all the time!"

She's talking about the recent mission they took – the one that nearly failed because Soul had made a split-second decision that basically saved her ankle from being sliced off clean. Although she had recovered from the shock of nearly losing her foot belatedly, the gratefulness disintegrated when the Kishin attacked her again and managed to blow her into the wall. It nearly cut her in half with its sharp pincers had it not been for her quick thinking to use the back of her scythe to push it back.

"I practically saved you from getting your leg chopped off!" He shouts, incredulously.

"But that decision nearly got me killed anyway!" Maka snaps.

"But you're not dead so what's the damn problem?"

"That if you keep pulling shit like this, it might actually kill me!" Maka roars. "You make decisions without consulting me and—!"

"Sorry to burst your bubble but I can't consult them with you if I only have half a second to do it!" He sneers. "My bad. Next time I'll just let your foot get cut off!"

"That's not my point." Maka says through clenched teeth.

"Then what is your point?"

"My point is you're making all of these decisions while we're fighting and they're putting me in danger! You can make all the decisions you want when you're fighting alone but it's different when we're working together!" Maka exclaims, frustratedly. "We're a team, Soul! You can't be trying to attack while I'm trying to dodge! It doesn't work that way!"

"Then what the hell do you want me to do? That's what I've been doing this entire time! Nothing has changed except your attitude towards it!" He angrily replies, his fury ratcheting up to levels he has never allowed them to go. "What the fuck do you want from me?" This feeling of losing control is familiar but he can't put his finger on when...

"Obedience!" Maka finally roars, getting in his face.

He does not back down like his gut tells him to. Instead, he leans in closer, a sneer on his lips. "You won't find another weapon as obedient as I am, Maka." The conviction in his words would have otherwise shut her up but she can't stand the the idea of letting him win this argument; not today.

She scoffs snidely. "I wouldn't be complaining if you were half as obedient as I want you to be!"

"Then how much more obedient do you want me to be?" Soul growls. She stands her ground, holding his blistering glower. "Explain it to me, professor, because I don't seem to understand." He mocks her.

"When you obey me without question..." Maka dangerously says, eyes burning to look at. "Then I'll be happy."

He smirks, twistedly. "Control freak."

"Lazy asshole."

"Titless bookworm."

"Heartless bastard!"

"Possessive bitch!"

She sucks in a sharp breath, screaming: "Fuck you, Soul—!"

He crushes his mouth against her own, moving his mouth hard against hers. He shoves her against the table, presses her against it. He looms over her with dangerous intentions, forcing her still as she struggles, and is pleased when she groans in defeat and gives into his rough demand.

"Be careful what you say, Maka." Soul breathes against her lips. "It might just happen."

Instead of replying, she grabs him by the lapel's of his jacket and pins him against the table.

She shows no mercy, even though the back of his head hits the wood of the table, as she climbs on top of him.


"I thought you were going to be obedient." Maka hisses, thrusting him up so their lips are millimeters apart. There is still anger crackling in her eyes. "I'd start right now if I were you, Soul."

He smirks widely. "As you wish, my master." And their lips meet again, his teeth sinking into her lower lip. Her hands loosen on the strips of fabric of his jacket and he allows his hands to run down the curve of her back until they reach the pleats of her skirt. He tugs, impatiently, but the skirt barely budges on her hips.

"Move." He grunts, reversing their positions again. There's a sense of uncontainable excitement that thrums through his entire being; an anticipation and yearning that festers in his gut when he tears her uniform shirt off to expose her polka-dotted bra.

Maka barely contains a gasp when his mouth assaults her neck, his hand palming her breast roughly. His teeth are as sharp as she anticipated they would be, they send jolts of fire through her veins with every prick, and she strains herself not to moan when he manages to remove her bra and grip the naked mounds of flesh under his hands possessively.

"What is it you want me to do, Maka?" He asks, tracing his lips in mock-adoration down the curve of her jawline. "Tell me."

"I..." She can't speak; it's too much. His teeth sink into her neck again, suckle and bite on soft pale skin, and she's a bothered mess under him with that alone.

"Maka...?" He reminds her, transfixing her in his smoldering gaze. "Tell me, my master, I'll show you just how obedient I can be."

"Do... that again!" Maka gasps, and his hands squeeze her breasts experimentally. "Th-that..."

"This?" Fingers catch a perked nipple and she groans in approval. "Are you sure you wouldn't like something... like this?" His tongue runs up the valley of her breasts slowly, reaching her jaw before finally plunging into her mouth. Her mouth is hot, like the rest of his body, and the contact between him and his meister is almost too much to bear.

The sensations that strangle them both are almost too much to bear; let alone ignore.

They are being driven by raw instinct alone, thoughts smeared and distorted, and all that matters between them is the flesh on flesh contact, the whines that come from Maka, and his urge to make her scream until her vocals collapse.

That's all that matters: his obedience and her commands.

"More." Maka moans, her skirt bunched up around her waist. His jacket has long since been discarded on the floor, which is piling with their clothes, and her hands fumble with the buckle of his belt before it comes loose and she tries to pull his pants down.

He smirks, giving her nipple one last languid lick before regaining some control. He shoves the impatient hand away from his pants, chuckles darkly when she begins to protest, and merely pushes her up the table until her moist sex is right under his grinning mouth.

"S-Soul?" Maka rasps in confusion, when her legs are pushed apart. Her eyes hazily adjust to the ceiling, curiously question why there is something almost like smoke hovering around them like a veil, when she feels something wet and slick slide up her center.

The explosion of ecstasy that assaults her body is indescribable; is it always like this?

She hopes so.

Maka throws her head back in a silent scream while his hands grip her thighs to keep her in place. His tongue works his way around her moist core, impatient and hungry. He thinks it's ironic, how she is ready on the dinning table to be feasted upon by him, and this only widens his grin; broadens the need to claim her.

The possessiveness that clutches his heart, makes it hard to breath, isn't him but he's too drunk on these sensations to question it.

Carnal ruby red clash with sultry forest green as his pulls the edges of her plain white underwear to the side and lets his tongue really taste her for the first time.

He watches as her eyes flutter, shut close, until all he can see is her arching chest as she voices a loud moan that makes his blood sing for her.

A sharp tooth scrapes against her swollen clit and she bucks into his mouth, her fingers burying themselves in his tangle of hair with the need to hold onto something; anything. He repeats the action, receiving an encouraging tug at his hair, and it isn't long before she's heaving for breath and desperately trying to make this torture come to an end.

But she's denied that, as he firmly presses her down on the table and prevents her hips from moving.

Instead, he grins, and gives her wet slit one final lick.

"What is it you want, Maka?" Soul teases her, holding her thighs apart to expose her to him.

He plays with the thought of removing her underwear but decides not to; not yet.

Her face his red with both embarrassment and exertion and her lips part but form no words.

He's fine with that – he can wait until she graces him with her sweet voice. "Tell me."

She whines, shaking her head, pressing her lips tightly together. She tries to close her legs, regain a sense of decency, but he firmly keeps them apart.

He has no problem with her stubbornness, either – he finds it rather cute, trying to resist the inevitable.

"Soul – no – !"

The pad of his thumb presses against her suggestively, rubs slowly as he watches her suck in breath and widen her eyes to their fullest extent. She's bucking again, aching for release, and he's pressing her down again, keeping her still as his thumb caresses her calmly.

"I'm waiting for my orders, my master." Soul purrs, sinking a finger into her soaked sex and pulling out to reveal her essence. It drips down his fingers, a sticky mess, but he merely grins and sinks his fingers back inside of her wet cavern; to tease and feel her inner walls tighten around his long fingers needily.

"D-damn it, Soul." Maka gasps, body tensing when she feels his fingers sink back into her; teasing her with what she could feel if she decides to give into her devious weapon, who has somehow managed to remain obedient while making his own decisions. "You...you...!" She can't get the insult out – she's blinded by the shocks of pleasure that race up her aflame nerves and drown her in ecstasy.

He's thumbing her most sensitive part again and she's putty in his hands, to his immense glee.

"I live to serve you, Maka." Soul drags her down until their mouths are even. "I'm waiting." Instead of replying, she crushes her mouth against his and tangles her tongue in his, wrapping a leg around his waist and shoving his hardened cock against her soaking sex.

That is enough for him to know what she wants.

He grunts at the contact and fists a hand against the wood of the table when she runs her fingers through his hair right before she pulls back harshly, snapping his head back for him to stare at the hazy ceiling.

"You're not...being obedient, Soul." Maka breathlessly says, far too lost in the sensations of her body against his to entertain her virgin reservations. She pushes herself up against him, moans when their bodies react needfully, but keeps him in place by pulling his hair back like reigns "I thought you were going to be obey me..."

He slurps, licking away the saliva that managed to drip down the side of his mouth from their harsh kissing, in reply.

Soul groans when he feels her lips on his neck, her lips sliding down his sensitive skin until she reaches his collarbone, kissing almost tenderly before his head is pulled back again.

The pain is welcomed, as his hands grip her hips eagerly.

"I can't obey you if you don't give me orders to obey, Maka." Soul pants back. He wrenches his head from her hands and slams her down against the table, regaining his lost control. "So it's up to you." He presses against her dangerously, shutting his eyes against the molten heat that envelops his body. "Tell me what to do, Maka, and I'll do it."

She whines pitifully under him, clutching his slim hips against her tightly with her legs.


"Maka." He whines.

She arches off the table when his hard arousal rubs fiercely against her own, the friction of his pants and her underwear nearly her undoing.

"Take them off." Maka shakily demands, steeling her pleasure-weakened voice: "Now, Soul!"

"That's better." He smirks contently, reaching down to undo his pants. He kicks them off, clad in only boxers, and for a second he thinks it's fair game – she's bare except for her soaked underwear and he's hot and hard under his boxers – when her hand shoots into his line of vision and viciously rips his boxers down his legs to reveal his bulging erection.

His eyes widen, startled by the assertive move on her part, but none of that matters when her hand grips him.

Hard flesh, smooth silk over hot metal, is met. She gives his cock a squeeze, deciding she likes the way he moans out her name. Her thumb runs over his tip curiously and he's thrusting into her hand, his fingers digging into her shoulder as he wheezes her name again.

"Stay still..." Maka grunts, intent on giving him a taste of his own medicine. "Just stay still, Soul!"

He says nothing but forces himself still with dog-like obedience – just as she wishes him to be.

His teeth dig into the tender skin of her shoulder, drawing blood when she allows his swollen cock to brush against her slick folds through the fabric of her underwear. The actions is nearly enough to make him scream uncle but he doesn't – instead, he just feels the way all his resistance is falling apart and he is nothing but her toy; an object that gives but asks for nothing in return, as she bites her lips and groans pleasantly in her throat, rubbing his hard flesh along her aching core.

"Ngh... more." The pulsing, blistering and urgent, heat that needily begs her for release is overwhelming. She can't take this torture anymore and, by the way he is biting her, his body trembling with the force of restraining himself from thrusting inside of her, his control is shearing away with every pass his cock does upon her slick folds. "S-Soul..!"

"What?" Soul asks hoarsely. He shakily leans up, his lips pressing against the side of her own. "Tell me, Maka. Tell me what you want."

"Now..." She wheezes, gripping his shoulder tremulously. Her nails dig into his skin and he's only more aroused by the pain. "Now, Soul!"

"Now, what?" Soul asks desperately, not because he's teasing but because he doesn't want to get ahead of himself. Her happiness is of utmost concern, and he can't have her regret this because his own selfish desires won against her own. For all he knows, she could intend to leave him like this: hot, bothered, and pained.

He groans, unable to take just how hard and painful his erection has become with her mindless ministrations. "What, Maka? Fuck... just tell me already!"

"J-just..." He can see it in her eyes – the dirty words that refuse to come from her mouth but is only too willing in his own. He weakly grins, swallowing hard against the tight pain in his lower abdomen; the pleasure that is being put on hold for her needs.

"Fuck you?" He finishes for her, her hesitant eyes meeting his own. He can see it; it's what she wants and he swells even more in anticipation. "Is that what you want? Do you want me to fuck you, Maka?"


"Is it?" He hisses, aggressively. "Because I'll fuck you if you tell me to." Her nails sink deeper in his back, drawing blood. He doesn't care; it feels good, he encourages the gruesome raking. "Suck it up and tell me to already!"

"Fine!" She shouts, gritting her teeth against the dignity inside of her that tells her not to say it; not to sink so low. But this heat, this painful restraint, is killing her; it really is. The carnal desire to have him fill her, to have him inside of her, is too much to bear alone. "Do it!"

"Fuck you?"

"Fuck me!" She snaps only to gasp when his arm briefly morphs into a scythe and he cuts away the last bit of clothing between them: her underwear. He spreads her, wide, and then he's slowly sinking inside of her, trembling as he reminds himself she's new to this and he cannot ram into her like he so desperately wants to.

Instead, he concentrates on her sweat-coated face and how her mouth moves around words he can't hear. He wishes he could read lips so he could know what she's saying but once he sinks past her barrier, rests there to allow her to adjust to his length, he could care less if she was cursing him to hell and back because he's lost to the sensory overload.

And the thick smoke of air surrounding them, veiling them, fuels these carnal sensations.

"M...aka." He can't stutter; he refuses to stammer as the muscles in his thighs harden with restraint. He wants to ram into her, hard and long, with no room for rest, but he can't. He has to be a good weapon and wait for her orders, wait for her to tell him (be it with a look or with words – he doesn't care) that he can fuck her with no inhibitions. "Please..."

"Move." She barely whispers, her moan shattering the silence. "Harder!"

And it's surreal.

He doesn't know if it's the fact that he's finally inside of her, finally able to bask in the blinding glory of sex, or if it's that smokey haze that spreads through them like mist on a cold autumn day.

But he does know that she's tight and hot; clamping around him with a force that nearly makes him come if not for his masochistic tendencies. The pain of prolonging the inevitable moment, of being able to feel her, slick and ready, is too tempting not to, even if his body screams for release.

Their mouths meet.

The contact of her tongue, coupled with their joint bodies, sends him into a total frenzy.

"S-Soul...!" She gasps, the air too thick to properly breathe in.

"Maka..." He grunts, thrusting into her and enjoying the flash of pleasure that crosses her face every time.

And then they reach a point where nothing matters but the light show behind their eyelids as they accidentally Soul Resonate; none being able to tell whose thoughts were whose as they scream each others name into the empty space of their shared apartment, a sinful sound that echoes far after they've finished.

She's wheezing for breath, chest heaving, heart pounding in her ears, and he weakens and falls on top of her like all his bones have been removed.

Sweat coats their bodies, both trembling with the aftermath of their actions, and Maka deliriously gazes at the smokey ceiling as she contently rides out the pleasant waves of orgasm.

"Soul...?" Maka softly calls, after a few more minutes of recollecting herself.


"That smoke..." She mumbles, her hands gently caressing the back of his neck as he rests against her decent chest. He's briefly glad that she had managed to grow into her lithe body. "What is it?"

He turns his head, able to distinctly see the see-through haze as he looks at the microwave. He had thought about what that smoke was before Maka drove him insane with need but now that he managed to get what he wanted, he had enough mind to question it...

"The candles!" He realizes, forcing himself up. He looms over her but his eyes are directed over his shoulder, to the three candles that are lit on the coffee table.

"Candles?" Maka murmurs, in confusion. "What do the candles have to do with the smoke..?"

He doesn't know; or maybe he does but he's too lazy to tell her. So he just shrugs and rests on her soft breasts against. "Dunno'... I got 'em from Stein..."

Her breath hitches and Soul lazily looks up at her, watching her eyes widen in realization. Then, a shaky laugh escapes her throat. "You really are an idiot."

He raises a brow, grunting in question.

"Those candles..." Maka begins, with a red flush. "They're the emotion heightening candles he made us sit through before, remember?"

"That dumb training that nearly got you killed when we fought against the werewolf?" Soul mumbles. He scowls and buries his face back in her chest. "...I knew I shouldn't have taken them when he offered them to me..."

"That's weird." Maka comments, wondrous. "Why would you give you those candles in the first place if he knew they nearly destroyed our partnership last time?"

"Don't know, don't care." He bluntly says. Then he remembers something very important. "What time is it?"

"It's about to be... eight." Maka answers, her eyes on the clock overhead. "Why?"

"... 'Cause Black Star said he was coming over to play video games with me." Soul cringes when she gasps. "At eight."


A loud banging cuts off whatever Maka was going to say, Black Star's cheerful: "Hey, Soul! Open up! Guess what? I've got Dead Requiem 2! Get ready to eat shit, Soul! You know you want to!" He coaxes through the other side of the door, as Maka scrambles off the table, picking up their discarded clothes at breakneck speed.

Soul just rolls on his back, sitting up and watching his meister ball up their clothes in her chest.

"Help me!" Maka snaps, when she realizes he's just sitting there, watching her, looking no more stressed than someone taking a drink of wine.

"Going, going..." Soul yawns, cracking his neck. "Geez, we're just naked—oof!" He tosses the shirt she threw at his face away, glaring at her.

"Not. A. Word." Maka hisses. The last thing she needs is Soul telling Black Star of this little... incident. "You heard me?"

Soul grins wolfishly. "Yes, my master!"

She threw his belt at him this time.


Pen scratches against paper rapidly.

"...Resonance speed is up by twenty percent... strength has been increased exorbitantly... no damage to soul synchronicity..." He mutters under his breath, as he watches his two students train in the field. His Soul Perception catches every single flare of strength, every single change in their wavelengths or twitch of restraint in their bond.

"The hypothesis was correct." Franken Stein concludes to himself, placing his pen back in his lab coat.

"What're you mumbling about over there, Stein?" Spirit suspiciously asks, eying him as his friend calmly leafs through his notes in his notepad.

"It seems your mindless comment of sexual intercourse improving Soul Resonance rate and wavelength strength had been correct all along, Senpai." Stein placidly informs. "Although I will have to conduct a few more experiments to finalize my research."

A giant, smug, grin breaks on Spirits face. "See? I told you! So, does this mean you're going to accompany me to Chupa Cabra's one of these days? Huh? C'mon, Stein, ya' know you want to!" He nudges him suggestively, the professor remaining undisturbed by his implications.

"I reiterate," Stein starts, bored. "I will have to conduct a few more experiments. I highly doubt promiscuity will improve the strength and relationship between meister and weapon, though. Infidelity isn't usually welcomed in such relationships." A sadistic smile crosses his face at his friend's wounded look.

"Who was the unlucky pair who had to go through your heartless experiment, anyway?" Spirit mumbles, miffed by the none-too-subtle jab at his philandering habits. "Heh, I feel bad for them already!" He sniffs, haughtily.

Stein pushes his glasses up his nose calmly. "Maka Albarn and Soul Eater Evans." He responds, chuckling darkly at his senpai's sudden faint look.

"Wh...wha...no...what?" Spirit brokenly whispers, horror crossing his face. His mind spun into an overload; not wanting to accept that his Maka, his sweet, precious, Maka, had been taken away from him so cruelly. "M-my angel... M-M-Maka-chan... and that-that beast Soul? No way... I-I...impossible..!"

"Please refrain from disturbing their training, Senpai." Stein hums pleasantly, lighting up another cigarette. "I believe they are on the brink of another power-up and I would like to—"


"Oh. He fainted."