Chapter 3: Better Lock it in your pocket
Sunday is grocery day. Every week, without fail and barring a mission, they walk down to the store. Soul used to hate it. He claimed they looked stupid walking with totes on their arms and that they should have just taken the bike.
Maka had rolled her eyes and offered to carry all the bags down, as long as he helped carry them back. "It's only a couple of blocks, Soul. We don't need the bike for that."
He kind of enjoys their trips now. It's a nice routine-something they do together, without fail. This morning, he even grabs their bags without being asked. Soul finds himself in a strange place-last night made him feel as though something monumental had occurred between Maka and him. At the very least, they've smoothed things over and he hid that treacherous glasses case some place he can't imagine her looking.
Maka walks a few paces in front of him, and while he really doesn't mind the delicious, hip-twitching view he's presented with, mostly he's just pleased that she no longer looks like she wants to be anywhere else but near him. It's surprisingly pleasant.
Which really, should have given him some sort of clue.
Maka sees Marie first. In some sort of alternate universe, Soul likes to pretend that, if he had been the one to catch sight of her, this whole mess could have been averted. In reality, he knows better.
"Good morning, Marie-" his meister trails off, having fully absorbed their former instructor's outfit. Soul feels his blood chill.
"Oh, Maka, Soul, hello!" The blonde is incredibly cheerful for a Sunday morning and considering her hand basket is filled to the brim with first-aid material.
"Ah, hi," Soul mumbles, looking just about anywhere except at Marie Mjolnir and what appears to be her increasingly disturbing proclivity for nurse outfits. He wonders idly if this is something she initially learned from Nygus, or if she just wants to make Stein slowly lose his mind. Again.
Either way, he's having to avoid Maka's poorly concealed shock and Marie's poorly concealed tits at the same time. Marie is completely oblivious as she and Maka exchange pleasantries. He's even managing pretty well, distracting himself with the impressive array of gums and candies on display.
"Soul, is everything working out alright?" Marie leans forward just slightly and tries to give him a conspiratorial wink. The eyepatch ruins the effect somewhat.
Soul's eyes widen as Maka turns and gives him a look that walks the fine line between curious and dangerous. "Wha-"
"You know, your appointment the other day?"
Marie is approximately as subtle as her weapon form. He resists the urge to slam his head into the rack of candy. "Uh, everything's fine," he mutters. Maka's face clouds over, and he wants to throttle Marie and her well-meaning mouth.
"Oh! I'm so glad to hear that! I'm sure Dr. Stein will be pleased, too." Soul's pretty certain that Stein doesn't give two shits about whether or not Soul's glasses are working out, but he keeps his response to a noncommittal grunt and hopes she drops the subject.
"What's with all the supplies," Maka asks, neatly sidestepping Soul's problem. Marie gives the girl a wide smile.
"Oh, you know, just the normal restocking! We're out of all the basic essentials at the house-and we have another appointment today-Ox is coming by, isn't that a coincidence, Soul?"
It is as if with every sentence that drops out of Marie's mouth, Soul can actively feel himself sinking further and further into dangerous territory with his meister. She gives him another sharp, calculating look and he swears he can see the gears in her brain shift into overdrive.
"Uh, yeah. Coincidence."
Maka's eyes are guileless in a way that is positively uncanny. "Oh? Is everything alright with Ox?" How does she do that? It must be some kind of superpower.
Is his heart stopping? He thinks that it might be. Marie is going to spill the glasses beans and he is never, ever going to hear the end of it from his meister and their friends.
"Oh, it's nothing much, Maka, just a little check-up." Marie tries to wink again, though Soul isn't sure who exactly it's supposed to be directed at. Maka's face scrunches up for a moment, and there is no way that the little gears in her head aren't putting all the pieces together in a way that is going to completely ruin him.
"Ah," she says, and it's his turn to blink. That's it? No revelation of his secret, no blackmail or shocked gasp? Maka gives him a speculative look, and not for the first time he wishes that he could see and interpret souls like his meister can.
Sometime between his heart bottoming out and his brain attempting to decipher Maka's mysterious look, Marie gives them a cheerful wave and leaves, scooting off to pay for a small hospital's worth of medical supplies. He stares at her exit, and Maka pokes him in the gut a little harder than is strictly necessary, and Soul winces, but follows along with his portion of their groceries.
Maka spends the entire walk back to their apartment with her brain in overdrive. Soul spends the entire walk back to their apartment becoming increasingly paranoid. By the time Soul unlocks the door, Maka feels like she might be the biggest idiot on the planet.
The glasses case. The glasses. Ox.
She is seriously contemplating slamming her head into the wall. For being top in her class, Maka is convinced that she might be the stupidest person on the planet. She slams the door behind her, frustrated with her own idiocy, and Soul jumps at the noise, nearly dropping his grocery bag. She eyes him speculatively and follows him into the kitchen.
Soul can feel her staring at him. He almost drops the yogurt twice trying to put it in the fridge. Maka has been much too quiet since their run-in with "Nurse Marie," and now he wishes he had never told Maka he'd gone to Stein's. He's not sure what she's got brewing in her giant nerd brain, but her eyes are narrowed, and she's kind of glaring at him, and oh god what if she thinks he went to Stein's and got a inadvertent peep show from Nurse Wonder-tits and that's why he didn't tell her what he was doing and-
He drops the OJ and nearly hits his head on the freezer door. "Hah?"
"Are you alright?"
He exhales shakily, still crouched in front of the fridge. This is so stupid. Why did he ever think it was a good idea to hide his appointment from Maka? "Yeah, I'm fine, Maka."
"Are you sure? Because you've seemed really flustered ever since we ran into Marie," she says, putting away the crackers with studied nonchalance.
His hands are definitely trembling now. "Uh-"
"Cause, you know...if there was something that you wanted to tell me, it would be ok. I won't be mad."
He stares, open-mouthed, and his continued silence is apparently too much for Maka to take. "Really, Soul. I know why you went to Stein's." She fixes him with a look that's part disappointment, part hurt, and he's about to completely roll over and spill all of the beans everywhere when she sighs heavily. "But if you don't want to tell me, I'm not going to make you."
Is this a trap? He thinks that it might be a trap, but he can't quite wrap his brain around the how and the why. Is Maka really ok with the idea that he was visiting Stein just to see Marie in a nurse's outfit? She can't be-
But she's giving him a small smile despite that unfathomable look in her eyes, and Soul groans. He's starting to give himself a headache. Maka finishes putting away her portion of the groceries, and announces, "I'll be in my room, reading, if you need me."
"Um. Okay," he mumbles. If he keeps his head in the fridge long enough, his face has to cool off, right?
She feels a little terrible, and a lot manipulative. But she doesn't understand what Soul's problem is. Having to wear glasses isn't something that he should be ashamed of. She doesn't understand why he would go through such lengths to hide it from her. On the other hand-she's kind of glad that he did. It's bad enough that the dream she had last was enough to make her blush for a week. She's not sure what she would have done if she knew Soul wore glasses this whole time.
Maka stares at the page in front of her. It isn't as though she doesn't already have a hard enough time keeping herself in check around her partner. He's criminally good looking, which is bad, but not enough on its own to make her lose her mind.
The real problem, she finds, is that he's also incredibly sweet and caring. In the weirdest, most awkward and frustrating ways sometimes, but she's learned over the years to decipher his words and gestures, and she is pretty sure that she's completely undeserving of such a partner. Completely against her will, she found herself trusting him implicitly. She doesn't even know when it happened.
Add to that this unfortunate fascination she seems to harbor for boys in glasses, and well...Maka sighs. Crush, she admits to herself, doesn't really cover it. She's a goner.
She hasn't turned a page in almost a half an hour, and with a sigh and the faintest glimmerings of an idea in the back of her head, she peeks out of her doorway. The living room is silent, and she can see the faint light under the bathroom door and hear the shower turn on. Soul's door is open, and Maka stops thinking and darts across the hall and into his room. She glances at his desk, but doesn't see the glasses case immediately.
Maka grunts, frustrated. She rummages carefully through his desk and is about to crack open one of his drawers when she stops and shakes her head. What am I doing? What's wrong with me? This is a gross violation of privacy just for the sake of proving that her weapon needs to wear glasses and-she spots the case halfway underneath his pillow. Torn, she stares at it.
She hears a thump and Soul's muffled, "FUCK!" She smirks a little, knowing that he must have hit his elbow against the wall again, right up until the point she realizes that that means he's out of the shower. Panicked, she fumbles with the case and snatches the glasses. Shoving them into the waistband of her yoga pants, she puts the case back as best she can and sprints for the living room.
Maka has enough time to fling herself onto the couch and grab the book she had been reading yesterday before the bathroom door cracks open and Soul emerges in a cloud of steam. Her heart thunders against her ribs, partially from the adrenaline rush, partially because her stupid partner refuses to put a shirt on after he gets out of the shower. She'd bitched at him about it once because it was rude and not at all because the sight made her knees feel weak and trembly. He'd just scowled at her and said that he didn't like his shirt getting wet right after a shower. She'd scowled right back, but he'd been adamant and completely blew off her protests, strutting around shirtless-as if the fact that it bothered her made him immensely pleased.
She is not checking him out over the top of her book, no matter how obscene his pajama pants look slung around his hips. She looks up long enough to notice Soul give her a shy smirk before disappearing into his room. Maka resists the urge to crawl under the couch.
The shower, despite his best intentions, doesn't solve all his problems. His brain is still jittery and unsettled-he can't stop thinking about Maka's face, her trust in him, the disappointed look she gave him. He runs a frustrated hand through damp hair.
To think this was all because of stupid Stein. And now Maka thinks his "appointment" was just a ruse to see Marie in her nurse's get-up, and she's miserable and disappointed in him and-Soul groans. It isn't worth it. He can stomach a little embarrassment for the sake of his meister, can't he?
The glasses case mocks him from under his pillow; he snatches it up and squares his shoulders, then marches back into the living room. She's still draped over the couch, long legs stretched out.
"Maka." She looks up from her book, face still a little pink, and he wonders if she knows she's trying to read her romance novel upside down. "We need to talk." Her eyes widen, and he feels something in his chest clench at the look on her face.
"Wha-" She sits up, her heart pounding. Did he find out that she'd been snooping? He doesn't look angry, but "we need to talk" is never good, is it? "Soul, I-"
"No, Maka, just...let me speak." The stiffness of her shoulders hurts him. "I-"
"Soul, it's ok, you really don't have to-"
"No, I really do. It's driving me crazy that you think I would be one of those guys, Maka."
She blinks, confused. "What?"
"It's not what you think, I promise. I just-I was so embarrassed."
"Why would you be embarrassed, Soul! It's perfectly natural-"
He can't bear it anymore.
"MakaIwearglasses." It trips out of his mouth before he can stop it, and he stops, panicked red eyes meeting startled green ones. Before she can say anything, he fumbles for the glasses case. "I know I should have told you sooner, and it wasn't that I didn't trust you, I just thought it was so uncool and I didn't want you to think that I was less of a weapon because I had to have glasses and here, I can prove it." He pops open the case and stops suddenly, his heart dropping into his feet. It's empty.
He blinks, and from her spot on the couch, Maka stares at him guiltily. Almost reluctantly, she swings her legs to the floor and stands. He never bothered to put a shirt on, she thinks, and despite this, despite every instinct insisting that she run because this is her weapon and her feelings and nothing ever good came from mixing the two-except she's already in front of him and can feel the heat radiating off his bare skin and can smell his soap. She takes a deep breath and reaches into her waistband.
"I know," she whispers, and places the glasses on the bridge of his nose. His poleaxed expression would be completely priceless if she wasn't positive that this was going to be the end of their partnership. She never should have pried into his business, shouldn't have been that girl who can't cope with not knowing everything about her partner-everyone should be allowed to have their private things, and she had no right to-
She doesn't realize that her thoughts are spilling out of her mouth at an alarming rate until Soul gives her an exasperated, affectionate look and says,
"Maka, shut up." Her mouth hangs open for a moment, and that's all Soul needs. Before he can talk himself out of it, he presses his lips against hers.
Maka hadn't spent a lot of time considering what her first kiss might be like-some passing fancy here and there, usually brought about by her weapon walking around shirtless or doing something unexpected and sweet. She knew that she didn't think it would be quite this awkward. She doesn't know what to do with his tightly pressed lips against hers. Does she need to do something with her tongue? What about her hands? Are Soul's lips always this dry? Is this what kissing is all about? It's nice enough, she thinks, but aside from the knot in her stomach twisting a little bit, she's not sure what the big deal is about.
Soul pulls away after a scant moment, his heart pounding. He cringes in anticipation of a world-class Maka chop, but, instead she just stands there and stares at him, lips still parted. "I'msorry," he blurts out. He'd almost prefer a chop to this deafening silence.
Maka blinks at him once, twice, her fingertips ghosting across her lips. Soul looks at her, terrified, red eyes huge over the rims of his glasses. "I don't think I did it right," she says, licking her lips. "Try again?"
He nods shakily and leans down again. This time she meets him halfway, tongue darting out to run against his lips. He parts his lips, leaning into her, and she presses back; their tongues tentatively slide against each other as he wraps one arm around her lower back. It's warm and kind of slick and wet and the knot in her stomach sinks and twists and pulls and oh, Maka thinks, this is what kissing is supposed to be like.
Soul's palm is warm against her skin, tucked just underneath the hem of her shirt, and his chest is just a little damp from his shower still, but Maka finds that she doesn't care so much because his other hand is tangling in her hair and she can feel his heart pound against her. She wonders if he can feel hers just as easily. Maka pulls back this time, eyes searching his.
"Was that better," she asks, one hand sliding up to his cheek. He nudges into her palm unthinkingly, savoring the feeling of her fingertips against his skin. "Better" doesn't really cover it, as far as he's concerned.
Maka stares at him intently, waiting for an answer, and he can't help himself. "I don't know," he says, giving her a crooked grin, "I think I could maybe use a little more practice."
Her answering smile is met with another peck on the lips, this time a little more hurried as Maka slips her hand from his cheek and into still wet hair. He's going to have the worst cowlick later when it dries, but she thinks it's pretty cute, so she doesn't mention it. Instead, she murmurs against his mouth, "I think I could get used to this."
Soul presses his lips to the side of her mouth and along her jaw. "Would you like to?" he asks, breath hot in her ear. He doesn't thinkthat she'll say no, but he can't help the way his heart stops beating for a moment, waiting for her reply. He resists the urge to push his glasses up on his nose.
He likes the way her face lights up and the faint blush across her cheeks. I am so gone, he thinks. It doesn't bother him as much as he thought it might.
Maka lounges on Soul's bed with a book while he's still hunched over his desk, scribbling away at his homework. It feels oddly natural, comfortable. She doesn't know if this is what being a girlfriend is like. How can you tell? She's never done this before. Aside from the kissing (which is getting better and better) and the touching (they'd always touched, but now there is skin to skin and soft gasps), not much really seems to be that different. She wonders if that's normal, or if she's overthinking things too much.
"Maaaakaaa." She looks up from her book guiltily, and from his desk chair Soul smirks at her. "I can hear you thinking all the way over here."
She scowls a little. "Shouldn't you be finishing your homework?"
His smirk widens, and she feels something in her guts flutter. "All done," he says, pushing his chair back. He stands, long limbs unfolding themselves, which would be distracting except that Maka's still staring at his face.
She recognizes that he's moving closer, but all she can think about are those stupid fucking glasses, still perched on his nose. They shouldn't be attractive, for god's sake. They're huge and round and, and...Stein's glasses! That is not hot. Except that apparently it is because she can feel her mouth getting drier as Soul gets closer.
"A-all done? Really?"
"Yep," he pops the "p" and she realizes suddenly that he's got one knee on the bed and is practically crawling towards her. Perhaps it isn't just the glasses, she thinks, heart pounding. He's grinning at her crookedly, eyes bright with mischief, and she realizes quite suddenly that she is deeply and profoundly in love with this boy-her weapon, friend, partner.
She's blushing when she says, "So, what? You think you deserve some kind of reward?"
"The thought had crossed my mind."
Maka can't help her answering grin. "Well, maybe. Since you've been so studious." She taps the bridge of his glasses, then tugs the front of his worn t-shirt; Soul allows himself to be pulled down with a chuckle, elbows resting on either side of her head.
"I have been a good boy," he murmurs and then he kisses her. His lips are warm, if a little rough, against hers, and she tilts her head up, brushing her tongue against his mouth. Maka had always been a quick learner, and kissing was no exception.
She runs a hand through messy hair, pulling back just slightly to look at him. She brushes wild white strands back behind his ears, fingers lighting on the arm of his glasses. Grinning slightly, Maka pecks him on the temple, then the cheek-she gets the tip of his nose, then up to his forehead and across his other cheek until he growls and lunges to capture her lips. She can't help the small giggle that escapes as Soul teases her with searing kisses; her heart feels like it might explode from want. His mouth, she decides, is not enough.
She fists one hand in his hair, the other reaching back to grab his ass. Soul groans into her mouth as she pulls him flush against her. The sudden movement causes them to bounce slightly, the mattress squeaking under their combined weight. He's too busy trying to crawl into her skin to laugh, or realize that his glasses are perched dangerously close to the end of his nose until the damn things start to fall.
"Goddammit," he mutters. Maka snorts against his jaw and pushes the glasses back up his nose.
"Leave 'em on," she whispers, kissing wetly along his jaw and down his neck. He shudders against her, hips grinding into hers.
"I get it," he gasps. "You just want me cause of my brains."
"Mmm, how did you know?" She nips lightly at the base of his neck.
"I think you got a nerd fetish, Mahaaaa-"
"I think it's just you," she murmurs, grinding her hips against his.
He thrusts against her in retaliation, "I'm ok with that." He sets sharp teeth against her collarbone, and Maka squirms, nerves on fire.
Soul will never not be thrilled by the way his meister responds to him, her body arching underneath his-the way her hands dart under his shirt, slipping against his skin-she is as demanding in her affections as she is with her school work or on the battlefield, and he loves it.
Still, there is a part of him that worries. He knows her better than anyone else-knows how her brain works most of the time, knows her dreams, and most importantly, he knows her fears. He wants her, all of her, but he doesn't want to push her, doesn't want to see that spark of terror in her eyes when she realizes that he loves her. He's terrified of the moment when she freaks out because he wants forever.
He pulls back from her slightly, eyes wide, breathing heavily. Under him, Maka stares at him half-lidded, lips slightly swollen invitingly. He can hear her pants as he feels the rise and fall of her chest. He wants forever. It should scare him, much less scare her, but he doesn't feel scared. just a strange sense of calm.
"Maka," he replies. She's unsure what to make of the piercing look in his eyes, the affectionate quirk of his lips-he looks so serious, and so, logically, she squirms against him. He growls lowly, one hand tracing down her side to grip her hip. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"
She nods, the movement slight. She had wanted to lighten the mood, but she can feel herself falling quickly into this half-world that contains only them, their breath, their bodies rocking forcefully against each other; she wants to drive him crazy-at least as crazy as he makes her. Everything feels weighty and serious in a way that she wasn't expecting, but that isn't necessarily unwelcome.
Maka finds his ear, her voice sending lightning through the base of his spine. "More."
Her eyes meet his, and for a moment, everything is still. She can feel the heat of his hands, the way his body fits against hers-
The moment shatters as they both explode into movement. Maka arches into him as Soul slips his hand underneath the waistband of her pants and buries his face in her neck. They move together frantically, harsh pants breaking the silence of his room; Maka's hands scrabble at Soul's shirt, lifting and tugging. He whines as she pulls it over his head and he's forced to detach from her skin so she can fling it across the room.
She's already got her hands around his belt buckle by the time he figures out that he needs to sit up so he can retaliate. Maka follows him, nimble fingers snatching at the hem of her shirt. She yanks it up and over and chucks it before Soul can even process what's happening, and he shoots her a little glare for depriving him.
"Bra's all yours," she offers unabashedly, and her hands are on his skin once more, tracing his chest, feather-light across his scar.
He grumbles, but there's a smile dancing around his lips as he tugs her close. Soul tucks his chin over her shoulder, pressing small, open-mouthed kisses against her skin. He stares for a moment at the hooks and smirks. Confident, he drags his mouth along her shoulder and tugs down her bra strap, hand mirroring the movement on the other side. The breathy little moan she makes is worth everything.
His fingers tangle with the catch as she finally unzips his jeans, and he fumbles, eyes clenching shut as she rubs her palm against his erection. She's never been this bold before, but she wants this, wants him, with a surety she usually reserves for fighting. The feel of him under her hand is exciting in a way she's unfamiliar with, and she wants to explore further, to see what noises Soul is capable of making.
It takes him longer to pop the clasp of her bra than he'd like, but in his defense, he's easily distracted by her curious hands; he pushes the offending garment down, intent on wrapping his mouth around a perky tit. With a sharp tug, Maka pulls him back down onto the bed. He gives her a cheeky grin and claims his prize. Maka isn't expecting the wetness of his tongue or the careful scrape of his teeth against her nipple, and it sends warmth pooling into her belly.
He stops at her sharp cry, eyes darting up to hers. She pants, tightening her grip on his hair. "Don't you dare stop," she gasps. Soul gives her a devilish grin and laps at the tight peak, enjoying the way she writhes against him.
He's not sure how she manages to get his pants off, or even when she wriggles out of hers. Soul is far too focused on the noises she makes, the soft whines and helpless gasps he can elicit with tongue and teeth and fingers. They are music to his ears.
Maka's hands never stop moving; she is fascinated with his skin, with the way his lean muscles twitch and contract beneath her fingertips, with the way he presses against her, as if he can't get enough of her skin on his. She knows the feeling. His hands are busy dipping below the worn elastic of her panties, and it takes everything she has to concentrate on the feeling of her legs pressing against his hips. Cool, dextrous fingers slipslide against her, and Maka cries out, legs tightening as she writhes. Never one to miss an opportunity, she uses her movement to slowly but surely coax Soul's boxers off his narrow hips.
She hesitates for only a second-she's never seen a penis in the flesh before, and the knowledge that this isn't just any penis, but that of her partner, is enough to make the blood rush to her face.
Pictures in science textbooks were not enough to prepare her for this reality.
Soul's thumb brushes across her clit as she's stuck contemplating cock, and she breaks out of her stupor and wraps her hand around Soul. He stills for a moment, and she gently tugs. A slight tremor runs through Soul and she can feel his breath catch in his throat. Taking this as a sign of encouragement, she continues the motion slowly, carefully. Her thumb brushes across the head and comes away wet and a little sticky. Curiously, it makes it a little easier for her hand to stroke him.
His quiet panting in her ear is strangely arousing, and she thinks that it's kind of great that she can distract him enough that he's forgotten the fact that his fingers are buried in her underwear-ok, a little annoying, but mostly satisfying. She likes that she can have this effect on her normally level-headed weapon. Experimentally, she squeezes him gently, and Soul lets out a shuddering moan.
"Hmm?" she purrs, kissing his jaw.
"It's, haaaah, been a while, so you might wanna...slow down," he gasps.
She still her hand, and gives him a curious look. "Been a while since what?" Her face is earnest, despite the fact that she's still got one hand firmly secured around his dick.
Soul blinks, unable to discern whether or not she's serious; after a beat, he just gives her a slow smirk and tells her honestly, "Since I jerked it."
"Jerked wh-" He raises an eyebrow, still grinning, and rocks his hips into her hand. "Oh," she whispers. "Why?"
He shrugs a little and seems to recall at that moment just where one of his hands is. He curls his fingers against Maka and she shudders violently, muscles tensing. "Been a little preoccupied." She moans softly, distracted. "Don't tell me you don't touch yourself."
"M-maybe." It's hard to form words, hard to feel embarrassed when she's still touching him, when his hand caressing her shoots lightning into her veins and along her nerves and leaves her lungs screaming for air.
His grin widens. "How'm I doing, then?" he asks, and rubs just so. She tenses, body arcing into his hand, and squeaks, voice useless against the onslaught of sensation. Slowly she comes down from her high, face flushed, chest heaving. She turns glazed eyes on him.
"'salright," she manages to slur and he gives her a mock scowl.
"Practice makes perfect," Maka grins, recovered enough to resume her impromptu handjob. Soul jerks forward, burying his face in her neck.
"Haah, Maka-what did I tell you about that?" His hips jerk erratically, and she takes pity on him and lets him go. She looks up at him, still smiling, her eyes bright.
"Maybe we can solve that problem?" she asks. There is only a trace of hesitance in her voice, and Soul swallows thickly.
"Are you sure?"
In response, she shimmies out of her panties and kicks them away. Bare before him, heart in her throat, she nods. Soul is speechless, eyes glued to slightly damp skin. He trails reverent fingers across her flesh-along her collarbone, between her breasts and down her stomach, leaving a wake of goosebumps behind. Maka shivers.
Her senses are heightened. She can feel the air between them, hear every soft intake of breath Soul makes as he shifts his body. He slips between her thighs slowly, carefully, and he's so close.
He looks at her again and she pretends not to notice the slight quaver in his voice. "C-condom...I should stop-" Maka squirms, rubbing against him.
"Don't you fucking dare."
"Pill," she gasps as he rocks forward just so.
Soul kisses her then, soft and slow as he nudges her entrance. She focuses on the kiss and tries not to tense up. A moment later, Soul breaks the kiss and gives her a sheepish look.
She gives him a shy smile and reaches for his cock. It takes more maneuvering that either of them had anticipated, and with some hissing and giggling, they finally hit just the right angle, and Soul slips inside her. Despite her best intentions, she stiffens, unused to the intrusive feeling. Above her, Soul freezes. She can feel his muscles trembling.
"You ok?" he asks.
Maka winces a little and shifts, knees widening. "Just gimme a minute," she mumbles. There is still pain, but slowly it lessens, and she places a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. He twists his head and captures her lips, and Maka can feel some more tension drain from her body. She rolls her hips experimentally, and he groans into her mouth, thrusting shallowly.
She responds enthusiastically, and they quickly find a rhythm. Maka braces her hands on Soul's forearms, fingers tracing along the tensing muscles there as he pants in her ear, hips rocking furiously. She meets him halfway, caught up in the feel of him inside her, in his breath, the salt of his skin against her tongue and the half-gasped sounds of her name coming from his lips. She wraps long legs around his hips and he shudders.
"M-maka-I told you I wasn't going to last long," he grunts, face caught somewhere between ecstasy and embarrassment. She does something then, with her hips and her mouth and her voice against his neck, and Soul can't help himself, can't control the way his skin burns and his muscles shake as he comes undone, hips jerking wildly.
He manages not to collapse on top of his meister, but only barely. His arms give out and he rolls to the side, pulling out and gasping for breath. They exchange glances, and Maka can't help the huge grin that spreads across her face. She doesn't have a name for this feeling; it's everything she wanted, but nothing like what she expected, and she's somewhere between scared that this is going to change everything and euphoric because this changes everything.
Sometime in the midst of their activities, Soul's glasses had finally taken the dive right off his nose. He hadn't noticed,neither had Maka until they lay there together, still exchanging casual touches. She feels something prod her shoulder blade and she frowns, squirming.
"What the hell-" She twists and Soul chokes back a laugh, rescuing his reading glasses from underneath her. Maka shoots them a glare.
Soul gives up and laughs, plunking his glasses onto her nose. They are way too huge for her face, and she has to cross her eyes a little to see through them. She looks ridiculous, but even still, Soul can kind of understands Maka's fixation on glasses. She blinks up at him.
"You look like a total dork," he chuckles, and tries not to think of those glasses and her hair in its normal pigtails with her regular short plaid skirt and white button down. There are fixations and fixations, and Soul would like to be able to operate on a day to day basis without popping a boner every time his meister pulls off the schoolgirl look.
She scowls at him, blinking owlishly. "Well, at least I don't actually have to wear glasses," she snaps. He doesn't stop grinning, and her irritation grows. She moves to take off the glasses when his hand stops her.
"Ah, ah. You didn't let me finish. You're my dork," he says, punctuating his words with a lingering kiss to her throat. "My incredibly smart," his lips ghost along her jaw, "amazingly sexy, dork," he finishes, pecking the tip of her nose. Maka rolls her eyes, but that doesn't stop her smile.
"Yeah, whatever," she mumbles, face pink. She manages to slip the frames back on Soul. "They still look better on you."
He smirks. "I know." Maka chops him lightly, and he continues with an eyebrow waggle, "but they'd look better on the floor."
"Oh my god, really."
He laughs, and she giggles. They're curled up together on his bed, and Soul can't take his eyes off of Maka. She snorts with laughter, nose scrunching and shoulders shaking, and Soul realizes he's got another secret, one that he doesn't think he can keep.
"I love you."
Thanks everyone who read and favorited and reviewed! I had a lot of fun writing something that came out of a silly little one-off comment and some truly hilarious conversations. Huge thanks to Marsh of Sleep, Lueur d'Laube, and AdulterClavis, who helped me bounce around ideas, and everyone at GW who agreed that glasses are, in fact, super hot. 3