For those who have asked, I give you MATURE CONTENT BELOW! Dedicated to Lu's mom because it's her birthday… not like she's ever going to read this (and I sincerely hope not)! Oh, and happy 4:20.
~Our skin is like grass, lets smoke it real fast~
- Rilo Kiley, 15
There were times that he missed Mary Jane. She was so easy-going, simple-minded, mellow by nature, and certainly never unpredictably temperamental, raging like a rabid fire-breathing monstrosity that chased him out of the house with the threat of a book against his skull, for reasons entirely unknown. But no matter how much he craved for that moment of peace with his ex-mistress, he was a man of his promises, completely loyal despite all of the abuse that he had endured, so instead of going on a date with the pretty green lady, he decided to visit the next best thing: a guy's night out with Jack, or more like hanging out in a dive with BlackStar and not at all sipping JD but just some cheap beer that hardly gave any buzz.
The night was lame, but sitting by the bar at least gave him a moment to collect his thoughts that naturally gravitated around the topic of Maka Albarn. Their relationship was great and he hardly had anything to complain about, aside from those rare occasions where she would become incomprehensibly unreasonable and would lash out on him, sometimes getting physical and always locking herself in her room like she had done a few hours prior. Maybe it was that time of the month, but whatever it was, he didn't know what to do, so he might have shouted back some mean things along the lines of 'fuck if I care' and 'I'm going out', perhaps even slamming the front door a little too aggressively when he left.
"Blargh, fuckin' rat piss…" he muttered to himself after downing the rest of his revolting beverage that had warmed up after sitting out for too long. He was tempted to order another one, just for the sake of giving his hands something to do, but he finally stopped himself at the sight of his idiot bestfriend getting rowdy by the pool tables. The last thing he wanted was a brawl, so it was probably a decent cue to call it a night.
He was so distracted by the imminent ordeal of having to drag his drunken buddy out of this shithole, that he did not notice the flash of ash blonde rushing through the entrance and scanning the area for her white-haired counterpart which she spotted almost immediately.
"I was worried," she greeted from behind, but he didn't turn around.
"You could've called," he answered flatly.
The next thing he felt was her small but distinct breast squishing against his back, while her hands crept along his hips and sunk into the deep front pockets of his jeans. She made a deliberate effort to feel up every corner, dangerously venturing around his groin, in desperate search for that hard object. "You didn't bring your phone."
"Must have left it in my room," he said with a slight shrug of the shoulders, trying to act cool despite his precarious situation. Her hands were still firmly lodged into his pockets, curiously moving around like searching for hidden treasure, and she might actually end up finding a hard object at the rate that she was going.
But she finally stopped, slipping herself away from the heat to instead confront him face-to-face.
"Have you been cheating on me?" Her green eyes were unreadable, and even though the question was clear, he knew that she wasn't referring to an actual woman. He released a long heavy sigh.
"Why do you think that?" he replied meekly.
Her expression quickly turned into an irritated scowl, and she pushed him onto the bar stool, hopping onto his lap and diving her nose in search for the distinct smell of infidelity. The smoky atmosphere interfered with her senses, but Mary Jane had a strong presence that could not go amiss, so she grabbed the lapels of his jacket and buried her head further in his neck. When no traces of the scent were found, she moved to the last step of her confirmation; her lips pressed against his, her tongue finding nothing but the taste of cheap beer.
"I'm a man of my words, Maka. I mean what I say," he assured her, but she still looked sceptical. "As long as you can get passed the sarcasm."
"So were you being sarcastic that time?" She didn't budge from her seat, instead moving closer in an effort to act more intimidating. He indeed started to feel uncomfortable, but not for the same reasons since her short skirt rode up her thighs as she inched closer to his groin.
"I dunno. Depends on which ti—
"When we first hooked up," she interrupted, knowing that she must have been too vague. "You said that you'd quit weed…for me." Her cheeks started to look rosy and he didn't understand why she was suddenly getting embarrassed.
"Yeah, and I have…"
"But the last bit of your speech… were you being sarcastic?"
He usually had an excellent memory with past conversations, but that time had passed in a blur from the rush of emotions and the fight against his inner demons, so he couldn't quite recall his exact words. Moreover, his concentration was increasingly being shot down by the distracting bare thighs that straddled his lap, causing a certain region to uncontrollably heat up.
"And if I was, what's the problem?" he asked casually, still not remembering what the hell she was referring to. Maybe she would inadvertently give a clue if he kept on answering with more questions.
"Ok, I get it. So you were being sarcastic," she concluded, looking crestfallen and even a little hurt. "That explains everything."
She was about to slide off his lap, but he held her in place by wrapping his arms around her tiny waist. "What's everything?"
Her eyes shifted to avoid his gaze, and her voiced lowered to a whisper. He barely caught her answer under the noisy buzz of the bar, but his acute musician ears thankfully grabbed every word.
The reason why we haven't had sex in the past month.
And from then, he also remembered his own speech, what she thought he had been sarcastic about.
I'd rather be addicted to that firm ass of yours...
There was a huge misunderstanding because he was not being sarcastic—he truly loved her ass to the point of addiction, but he had a funny way of showing his devotion. In fact, if he had his way, he would be groping her every day like the healthy male that he was, but he knew that she wouldn't appreciate it one bit, so he always waited for permission before taking action. Maka was a giving person, so she would probably deliver if he had asked, but he cherished her wholeheartedly and didn't want to put her in such a dilemma.
Their abstinence for the past month must have been the result of his gentlemen manner, and it never crossed his mind that she would have noticed or even cared.
"I wasn't being sarcastic," he breathed into her ear, tickling the sensitive skin of her neck with rough fingertips that made their way to her burning cheek. "I've been waiting for you to ask."
"Soul, why am I always the one to ask? If you want it, just tell me!" she nearly cried out, getting impatient by his composure. She was so caught up in her emotions that the curious bulge in his pants passed completely unnoticed. He let out another deep sigh.
"Aren't the signs obvious enough? For such a bookworm, you sure have trouble reading between the lines…"
She paused for a moment to intake her surroundings, finally paying attention to her sense of touch. And when she felt that certain hard object, she nearly jumped out of his lap from the sudden realisation. This time he only chuckled.
"We should head home. But I just want to cool off in the bathroom, so gimme a sec." He stood up lazily and tried to remain unfazed by the embarrassing tent. Most people were either drunk or betting around the billiards, so he was grateful of his inattentive audience. But he would still need to relieve himself quickly, since there was no way that he could stand walking home with a third leg.
Instead of heading straight for a stall, he decided to freshen up by splashing some water on his haggard face. He looked in the mirror, and nearly keeled over when he saw her reflection staring back at him.
"Maka, what ar—
She grabbed him by the shoulders, pivoting his body to face her and shoving him forward until his ass dug into the edge of the sink. Wrapping her slender arms around his nape, she hurled herself onto his lips like a savage feline devouring its prey. Despite his shock, his hands instinctively clutched onto her addictive ass, his deft fingers venturing ever so dangerously into the crack that was already extremely moist.
He didn't know where this was going or what had suddenly gotten into her, but he savoured the moment nonetheless, releasing the built-up tension of a month's worth of abstinence. Their tongues clashed sloppily even though neither were drunk, sucking each other's mouth as if it was a source of oxygen, his sharp teeth then nipped her bottom lip as he travelled lower to ravish the creamy skin of her delicate neck.
"You think you're the only one that wants it?" she said through her heavy panting, exhaling a moan when he bites into her flesh while he simultaneously massages her wet walls with those long pianist fingers. His mouth was too busy to respond verbally, so she continued to rant.
"Idiot. I've been waiting for you to make a fuckin' move," her hand dipped inside his pants, "but no, Soul's too pussy shit to do anything!"
At the provocation, he shoved a finger deep inside her hole, and received the cutest yelp of shock. She retaliated by grabbing onto his member, but there was hardly any room to move, so her other hand went straight to work fumbling with his belt and zipper.
"So is that why you've been so moody?" he drawled into her ear, caressing more tender flesh with teasing nibbles. "Little bookworm's been horny?"
"F-f-fuck off." Her breaths were so shallow that it probably wasn't a good idea to waste them on words. "You're in no position to talk," she commented, tugging at the very engorged member in her hand and giving it a few pulls to prove her point.
"Then lets shut up and get this shit over with!"
She forgot how strong a man could be. Or how enticing those forearms could look, with veins protruding at every flexion of those sturdy muscles, gripping onto her wrists like she had once imagined. His jacket had come loose along their awkward hobble to the bathroom stall, so his bare arms were left exposed as they caged her body against the wall of this already confined space.
She was nearly slapped out of her trance when she heard the tearing sound of her cotton underwear, but her attention was instead diverted to the searing heat that was awaiting entrance. Even though it had been a month, Soul knew Maka's anatomy better than any subject, so he expertly slid in at the right angle and speed, causing her to breathe out his name as he ploughed forward with ease.
And once fully inside, the tension escalated beyond its limit while the heat enraptured them in a suffocating squeeze, like the intoxicating smoke of a hotbox numbing their inhibitions. Her throat became ragged from the constant moaning, while his quivering muscles threatened to give up from the physical exertion, but they simply could not get enough of this high. The stall's weak frame rattled at every pounding strike, particularly against the door that opened inwards and that they forgot to lock; it bounced on its weak hinges, back and forth like the rhythmic pumps that slammed into her core.
How could he have even thought about Mary Jane when this addictive drug was readily available, always willing, and apparently just as needy. Her fingers grabbed fistfuls of his white hair, practically tearing it off his scalp as his strikes sped up from their nearing climax. But the tight joint would eventually burn out, and when she reached the peak with a deafening call of his name, he burst almost instantly so that they could ride out their orgasm together.
After tidying themselves up, still a little winded by the strength of their abusive dose, they silently left the restroom as if nothing had ever occurred. And for once, the sight of broken glass, snapped pool cues, inert bodies on the floor, and BlackStar continuing to brawl, filled them with immeasurable relief. No one had heard them. Meaning they could get away with it again, like naughty teenagers getting high during recess.