I do not own Soul Eater or Led Zeppelin. I also do not claim this to be anything more than humorous and steamy PWP.
Of Cats, Twerps, and Straining Pants
Perhaps he should have seen it coming.
Any sane person knows that one can only trust a witch so far, and having one living in his own apartment is the equivalent of signing a waiver to the security of his well-being. He won't even mention the tits. The bottom line is, Magical Cat Blair is the bane of his sanity, and is the sole reason he's in this whole mess.
Well, maybe that isn't entirely true. But she had been the catalyst, for lack of a better term.
When Maka warned him earlier this morning that The Girls were coming over, Soul should have taken the hint and promptly vacated the apartment instead of shrugging and going into his man-cave of a room to go back to sleep. The wary look on her face had made clear the danger his manliness would be in, and that it was probably in his best interests to stay locked away until Monday.
He should have listened. She had tried. He acknowledges this, after the fact. He acknowledges that he absolutely should have seen this coming, or at least eaten breakfast beforehand. It doesn't make him feel any better, hunching over in the kitchen with a god-awful erection, but he gives credit where credit is due.
That damned cat! It wouldn't be so bad if Blair was just an air-headed house pet and/or succubus with no respect for his privacy. Oh no. The cat is a meddler. She knows things. Blair pulls puppet strings from behind a curtain of huge tits and purple-lacquered claws. Everyone's sex life (or lack of) is her business.
Naturally, Nakatsukasa Tsubaki's business (or lack of) had been the reason behind the Meddlesome Ovarian Gathering of Saturday Morning.
Soul will admit Tsubaki has been fighting a losing battle for the better part of four or five or way too many years. He's sort of embarrassed on Black Star's behalf, because that idiot is his best friend but Soul has no means or desire to defend the meister's severe case of clueless. Tsubaki can probably use all the help she can get.
Help, granted, that resides within normal boundaries of social protocol. Hell, even abnormal boundaries were preferred over... over this! Shoving the two into a dark closet for a few hours would have been fine. Shoving Black Star's face into Tsubaki's chest for a few hours would also have been fine.
A girly pow-wow assembling in his apartment led by a certain promiscuous feline to plot the demise of his best friend's severe case of clueless via concocting a deviously delicious-looking chocolate poison will never be fine.
There isn't any fairness at all. The tray had been sitting on the kitchen counter by the stove, in that sacred area where Maka usually puts rejected baking projects and leftover brownies for him to guiltlessly devour without threat of concussion. He'd just snuck out of his room, because it sounded like The Girls were about to go to lunch, and he hoped to find something to snack on because he'd slept through breakfast.
It hadn't helped they were his secret favorite. Chocolate truffles!
Even as he'd picked one up between thumb and forefinger, he wondered what the occasion was, never once thinking it had anything to do with the Magic Menace that lived under his roof. It wasn't Christmas. It wasn't his birthday. Dim bells had rung in regards to Valentine's Day; namely the ones marked 'Yes, You're a Glutton', 'Maka Would Never Give You Valentine's Chocolate', and 'Are You Eating These So She Doesn't Give Them to a Secret Crush? You Have No Shame'.
But they had been in the Free-For-All spot! Like the bonus square in bingo. Like ten bucks abandoned in the middle of the street. Like...whatever, he wanted it, it had called to him, and maybe Soul 'Eater' Evans has no sense of self-control when it comes to food, ever.
The chocolate coating had still been wet, so he licked the edge along with his sugary-stained finger so it wouldn't drip on the counter. And then the world tingled.
It tilted down, very down, and then suddenly very up, making his pants uncomfortably tight. He'd looked down at himself, confused as to why standing barefoot in a seemingly ho-hum kitchen should arouse him whatsoever. Then, as Blair's voice meandered its way to him from the living room, he had abruptly known she had something to do with the ache in his pants.
"Donchu worry, Tsu-ba-ki! One bite of these and your ninja midget will be alllll over you."
So yes, he should have seen this coming. He probably deserves it, somewhat. Presently, Soul stands while glaring at the tray of chocolate. His blood hums in anger and arousal as he thinks of ways to kill a magical cat. Most of them involve scythes and flea-baths.
To make matters worse, he hears his meister's voice, and it sounds just around the corner. "I'll be down in a minute, I'mma ask if he wants me to bring back anything," she calls. Oh, how nice of her. Unfortunately, unless wherever they're going for lunch has a super sized order of Limitless Women Dying to Get in His Pants with a side order of Excruciatingly Horny on the menu, he doubts Maka will be able to deliver anything that can satisfy him.
This is what he tells himself, anyway.
"Okay, we'll wait downstairs!" The front door slams, probably due to Patti's enthusiasm. His meister's winter boots clank down the hallway, but stop short when Maka spies him in the kitchen on the way to his room. Soul looks over his shoulder slowly, cautiously keeping his straining front to the cabinets and away from very green, very attractive, and notoriously observant eyes.
"Heeeyy," she smiles, jokingly chiding, and comes up behind him. He stifles a shiver as she plucks the truffle he'd licked a moment ago out of his hand. "No dessert before dinner~" she sing-songs.
And just to be a little twerp, she pops the whole thing into her mouth instead, before he even has a chance to say anything, much less point out the fact that it's lunch, not dinner time. It's still messy and wet, and there's a hint of glistening chocolate at the corner of her mouth. He's disturbed with how much he wants to lick it off her.
Soul completely turns around to face her in a daze, watching Maka's eyes widen slightly as she chews. A curious look crosses her features as she swallows. Then, Soul watches her world tingle and tilt; mostly down, in her case. She alluringly crumples to the floor, hunching over and shuddering.
"Wh..? Oh no," she moans into her hands.
Soul tries to ignore the twitch in his pants. Fails. Contemplates the benefits of his meister and a side order of Excruciatingly Horny. He calculates the chances of getting out of this mess without taking off his pants, and fails to find the statistics comforting.