The Idiots Get Down to Business
The truffle is almost the best thing he's ever tasted. He's still chewing as Maka hurriedly scoots back in her chair with a clatter like she's been impatiently waiting fifty years for Soul to join the club. He swallows as she clambers over the kitchen table. She's too impatient to go around, as uncaring as a military tank as her knee crushes the pizza box en route to him. Her hands find his wet hair, weaving in and pressing against his scalp. Lips mash forcefully into his, and it's pretty much everything he's ever wanted.
This is it. This is how it should be. Nothing is going to stop him. Nothing is going to stop either of them. Well, okay, clothes might hinder them a little, but she's taking care of that, already hauling her shirt and damn, she's not wearing a bra. How had he not noticed? Well, he notices now, and her tits are at the perfect height for him, and she's on the kitchen table so he may as well eat.
Her nipples are perfect. Her moan is perfect. "Ahh," Maka breathes into his hair, "You smell good."
Oh man, he's going to have to make a charitable donation to whoever the hell makes his deodorant. "You taste good," he replies, though if asked, he wouldn't know how to describe how she tastes. Only non-flavor words come to mind, like smooth and windy and that tingling feeling he gets in his fingers when he thinks about the word 'partner' with more than one connotation at the same time.
"You have no idea how long I've-"
He has no desire to sit any longer. "Neither do you." His chair is shoved back as he stands, palms sliding up her hips and chest and neck to cradle her jaw in his hands, because there isn't enough time in the world to not be kissing her again. The table creaks when Maka unfolds her legs to wrap around his waist and bring him closer. He can feel her warmth through his jeans, and she makes a little gasp in his mouth when he presses his hips forward. The table moves with his effort. This will not do at all. She already has a better plan, pushing him back to slide off the table and hook her finger in a belt loop of his pants to tote him along, carelessly kicking the long-forgotten boots in her path aside. They stop at her bedroom door, and he doesn't know how his hand has managed to attach itself to her ass or when Maka had grabbed her scarf, but he squeezes and she ties the fabric to her doorknob before letting them in.
It slowly occurs to him that the scarf is a sign. A Go-The-Fuck-Away-'Cause-We're-Busy sign. Goosebumps race down his spine and he's being tugged again, the gush of air from her bedroom door being slammed behind him ruffling his hair. Soul looks over his shoulder to assure himself that, yeah, this is actually happening, and when he looks back, Maka is gone. Wait, no, she's kneeling on the floor next to her bed, digging around underneath coordinating blankets and ruffles for only Death knows. Her rear is in the air, panty-lines pressing through flannel pants, and if that's not a sign too, he doesn't know what is.
She's still searching under her bed, so he joins her on the floor and kneads her firm flesh in his eager hands. Maka squeaks, pausing in her quest, but then begins again with even more intensity.
"Soul, waita minute... I have to f-find ohgod."
He grins, shoving his hand further down her abdomen and underneath two waistband checkpoints. Slightly damp folds meet his fingertips, and Maka presses her face firmly into the floor with a hiccup. Soul straddles around her body, nudging his complaining arousal against her and reaching the conclusion that her shoulder blades are very edible. And her neck. And her ear.
One of her arms is still shoved under the bed, but the other sneaks between her legs. Maka's hand presses firmly on his over layers of thin cloth. She writhes, making his breath come short with the friction from her ass against his jeans. Smashing his hand, she demands more stimulation while a symphony of arousing noises escapes her mouth. Soul rubs and strokes, refreshing his memory of this recently explored area. He teases and prods around her entrance.
"Maka. Hey." His grin widens when she moans in response, turning her head to the side to look over her shoulder. "Are you listening?" Ivory skin splashed with color, she finds him with the corner of an eye between ruffled bangs. Soul wetly kisses her cheekbone. He takes the flesh around her clit gently between the edges of his fingers and slowly rolls the nub back and forth. "Come," he murmurs against her face. "Right here. Come for me?"
It's not immediate, but Maka obliges, mouth opening wide and eyebrows tilting upwards in a desperate kind of helplessness. Her fingers dig into the back of his hand as she sucks in air with high-pitched gasps, and he wonders just how high her voice can go.
And then she stops making noise completely, like she's just been launched into space and there's no atmosphere to carry her cries anymore. Her hips flex and buck as she reaches her climax in silence. For several seconds, the only sounds in the room are the small thunk of Maka's forehead on the floor and the erratic scrape of their clothing sliding against each other until a tiny whimper escapes and her breath is finally, raggedly released.
He could do this all day and die happily. Soul pulls his hand out of his meister's clothes, watching as she melts to the floor in a boneless heap. He wants to tell her that the past ten seconds are collectively the hottest thing he's ever seen her do, but when he opens his mouth he decides licking the sheen of sweat on her spine is more important. His partner sighs contentedly underneath him, finally pulling her arm away from the bed, grasping something orange and bringing it out into the open.
Maka sits up a little, pushing him back with her as she shakily rests on her knees. She's still panting and responsive to his touches as she digs around in a pumpkin-shaped purse or bag or whatever the hell it is. Soul is more focused on wrapping his arms around her to grasp and tease her breasts, enjoying the way her skin feels on his chest. He does not like having her attention away from him so soon, so he nips at her neck. "Makaaa," he complains, taking tender flesh between his teeth. His meister shivers, but continues her rummaging.
"Just a... 'sec. Gotta find- ahah!" Unfortunately, whatever the shit she's found makes her so jubilant that her shoulder bashes him in the face.
"Owgeezus," Soul grits into his hands, reeling backwards and gingerly protecting his jaw from further abuse. That shoulder has been out for his life since this whole thing has begun!
Maka is half-laughing and half-apologizing as she crawls into his lap, babbling things about having to dig through Blair's stuff for condoms. Soul realizes his only option is to forgive her weird mash-up of horny and practical and adorable as she gently pries his hands away from his aching face and leaves little apologetic kisses all over. Her arms are thrown around his neck and all he can do is stupidly smile, because there's a half-naked bundle of girl and woman and warrior all over him, and not even two hours ago he'd been despairing over never being able to be this close with Maka ever again. It dawns on him that this won't the last time, either. They can do this again, whenever they feel like it, because they want each other and he'll always be with her, and now she's smiling too because she's caught his grin from him kissing it so much.
"We're idiots," he informs her against her lips, and she just nods, moving her face to his neck. He feels her tongue taste him, and his cock reminds him that his pants are still on and are becoming tighter every moment his partner's body rubs against his.
His hands trail down her spine and toy with the waistband of her pants. Do they even need the bed? They're right next to it, that's close enough... But Maka feels otherwise, grabbing his hands and forcing him to stand. She herds him backwards to her bed, and when he sits on it with a flop, she guides him to her roll the last of her clothing down toned thighs to pool at her feet.
Okay, the bed is a good idea. It feels better on his spine than the floor and Maka's girly pillows prop up his craning neck to watch her stalk over him, her hair grazing up his chest. He gets a perfect view of her hand sliding in his pants.
It had been damn hot when she'd tried to molest him earlier, but now that he doesn't need to resist it's ridiculously more enjoyable. Soul jerks and twitches as her fingers glide over his sensitive skin. He spends most of his time trying to take deep, calming breaths, but he fails at a lot of it- when she gently tugs on him he ends up hissing and gasping instead. He wants to touch her. He wants to take off his pants. He settles for frantically undoing his fly and grasping her warm thighs to satiate his cravings. Ah, but she's moving out of his reach! Though now her mouth is on one of his nipples and that's an acceptable trade. Soul's heart begins to gallop as she trails further down his body- a nip at his stomach, a kiss beneath his navel, a faint lick up his shaft...
A frustrated groan falls out of his mouth, feeling teased and annoyed as Maka pulls his jeans off his hips. Now they're finally both naked, and he watches her kneel between his legs and give him a wet swipe from base to tip like an apology before resting on her heels and hurriedly tearing at a condom wrapper with her hands.
Maka makes an unsure noise, holding a rolled-up circle of latex between her fingers. She gives him a needy and exasperated glance, and he doesn't know whether to touch himself or laugh. He sits up as says, "Um, Soul? Help, I have no idea-"
Well, he doesn't exactly have experience with condoms either, but he's pretty sure it only goes on one way. "Like this," he says, guiding her hands to his erection. "...Probably." He's close enough to press his lips to her chin as they unroll it on him, his teeth grinding at the snug fit and her gentle fingers.
Alright. No more distractions! His body thrums with uncontainable excitement, and he gives her no trouble at all, flopping once more to his back with only a small palm on his chest and a smoldering green glance. Maka's body shifts and stretches, lifting first one leg to the outside of his hips, and then the other. She lowers her weight on him, but he's dismayed that she hasn't guided him inside.
...This is okay too. For now. Heat seeps around him, the underside of his dick captured neatly between Maka's outer folds as she traps him between their bodies. The pressure from her bearing down on him fries his mind with burning sparks. Her hips move forward and back, her hands taking his and sliding them up her smooth torso to her tits. He plucks at her nipples, teasing the solid beads with his fingertips.
The wet noises her skin makes against him become more pronounced and rhythmic with every grind. Soul realizes he's never thought of his dick being humped in any other way than the Usual Way, but he thinks if he's given enough time (which, at this rate, is probably not that much) and he starts fantasizing about scythe shafts and mini skirts, he could just as easily get off this way too.
"Mm, does it feel good? Soul."
Actually, the fantasizing isn't needed. Actually, she should stop or he's going to lose his load. Soul makes a worried grunt, bringing his hands to her hips and stilling her. "Maka," he sucks in air between his teeth, "Here. We should..." He pulls her body forward so their chests come together and his cock is freed, the tip resting against her flesh.
Their faces are surrounded by a messy curtain of her hair. They breathe in each other, grazing lips together as Maka slowly pushes herself on his arousal. But she stops. Adjusts her hips. Tries again. They shift with embarrassed frustration. He can't feel where he's supposed to go with the condom on.
Tilting her weight to one side and snaking her arm between their bodies, Maka carefully positions him. Her voice is an airy whisper. "There. That's... ah!" Her eyes dart to his, first wide with surprise one moment, then narrowed to cloudy slits the next. Her lips purse around a small 'ooh', and the sound tastes delicious in his mouth. The tip of his cock is tightly squeezed inside, and he hums at the familiar sensation of melting.
Abruptly, his meister pushes away from his chest, plants her hands firmly on his stomach, and focuses her attention on the point where their bodies meet. Watching her cautiously lower herself a little further on to him, Soul parts her hair to the side, flipping it over her shoulder because it's in the way and he wants to see too. And it's true, it's halfway in. No, he's halfway in, disappearing in her, and now almost out, and now in again, his partner hissing as she leans back to sit completely upright and slowly accept him completely.
This is insane. How can any part of his body fit into such a small space? This should not be possible. She's amazing. Her body is amazing. He tells her this repeatedly, feeling her legs quiver around him. Maka slightly hunches over, moaning with her head bowed. Her insides grip him and twitch at random- she's so warm! Soul runs his hands down her thighs, then over his stomach to rest atop her trembling hands.
"Does it hurt?" he rasps out, his toes digging into her blankets. Her long hair sways and tickles him as she shakes her head. This is great news, because he can't stop himself from pressing his hips up into her any more. "Is it good?" Maka answers his slow, involuntary thrusts with a mewl, her lower body gloriously coming to life. She grinds back and forth, mimicking her earlier actions but with him encased inside.
He doesn't know who's controlling his body anymore, because it's certainly not himself. There is only the sight of his meister rocking and sliding in his lap, the bone-crushing grip she has on his fingers as he holds up his hands for her balance, and the feeling of all of his nerves burning brightly like light filaments. Soul can't tell which of their voices is his- all the moaning and gasping has jumbled together into an incomprehensible white noise of sex, and he can't be bothered with sorting it all out.
Maka's enveloping heat twining around him is addictive, but he wants to participate! She's tiring though, sweaty and panting heavily, so he takes this opportunity to sit up and take matters into his own hands. He plans on flipping them over, but he's distracted by her tits in his face and how he's able to grasp her by her warm ass and move Maka himself. Continues this until he's gone nearly deaf in one ear and the muscles in his arms are on fire. Keeps going anyway, driving her hips into his lap, wondering if she'll come before she pulls all the hair out of his scalp.
She doesn't. He almost does though, and he shakily halts everything until his vision clears. His heart is on the brink of painfully detonating, complaining about his lungs and how he can't use them quickly enough. Soul rests, laving at Maka's collar bones until she squirms anxiously, eager enough to start moving herself again.
His body responds to her voice more obediently than his brain. Finally he gets around to flipping them over, and he learns that moving around while keeping his dick in her requires finesse and experience that he does not currently possess. But that's fine, even if she whines from his absence, because he'll cultivate his experience over time with her, and he has the added bonus of fully watching her face as he sinks between her legs once more.
There's no way in hell he's going to last long. The only thing saving him now is Maka trying to find a more comfortable place for her legs every few thrusts. Sometimes they're around his waist, sometimes they're stretched out and hooked over his thighs, sometimes they could be on the god damn moon. It doesn't matter what she does with them because she's writhing and staring into his eyes, with only a chorus of 'Ah, haah, haah' leaving her mouth.
Soul wants to tell her just how mind-numbingly good it is inside her, but he can't, because it is. That being said, Maka breaks this barrier by shocking him into a whopping three syllables, milking a "Holy shit!" out of him. She'd been moving along with him, trying to match his hips, but he hadn't realized quite how much until he stops, watching her chest and abs and pelvis dance. The movement is almost serpentine, using her legs as leverage to move her soaking pussy along his shaft. Figures... his meister would find a way to ride him somehow while still being on bottom.
He can't deal with this anymore. She's too hot and too endearing and too much. Soul moves with her, diving deeply and letting the relentless pleasure close in on him. Maka pulls his face close, pressing her cheek to his and crying encouragements he can't understand. Soul silently apologizes in the back of his mind, because his blood has turned to napalm and he's going to come and nothing can stop it this time. But maybe the apology isn't needed, because as his body turns itself inside out, he deliriously pries open his eyes to see Maka losing herself, crazy hip-jerking and all.
Marsh: Eventually- an omake.