Speak Easy Part 1:
Like A Shot
His brother had picked out his tie.
Soul should have known the implication of letting his brother pick out his tie. The last time he'd trusted that task to his brother, draft cards had been delivered to the Evans' house. Wes and Soul weren't surprised; "The War To End All Wars" had been plastered across newspaper headlines and horrid tales of Axis forces ravaging Europe accompanied them. America's pleading for Peace had been ignored, up until they point where America had been involved.
The Evans Family, Death City's main definition of "Old Money" has sat on their hands for a while. Celeste Evans, matriarch, had pondered the idea of letting her children sign up, or waiting until the government came for them. In the end, she found there to be no shame to keep her children as long as she could, while still maintaining the right degree of patriotism. Once the draft cards came in for her boys, she knew she had no other choice. Wes and Soul both found themselves being shipped off to the biggest war the world had ever seen.
They had been back stateside for a while, but Wes had refused to go home until Soul had healed all the way, staying with him in the hospital in New York. They first returned to their home in the summer of 1921. And Death City was in full swing of the after war celebration. And now that they were home, and their mother had been pushing both of them to get back in the swing of this, Wes had informed his younger brother that they were going to a club, and handed him a tie.
Soul wondered when he'd lost the ability to make decisions, much less on how to dress himself.
"Wes…I don't want to go." Soul growled at his brother as he wound the green tie around his neck. Wes shrugged at his words, and checked his own wild mess of hair in the mirror.
"Like that matters, we've almost been home for two weeks, and mother is done accepting the 'old war wound' as an excuse to recluse yourself, Little Brother. I've exhausted every excuse I could think of. Don't worry, get enough of an edge going, and the night will fly by."
"You say that like it fixes things."
"Maybe it will. Now come on, we gotta scram."
"And where, exactly are we going?"
"Why, the new juice joint little brother, you think I would take you somewhere boring for you first night back out there? We're putting on the Ritz tonight."
He knew who she was the moment he saw her.
Death City might be big, but it was separated into social circles dependent on class, and in every social circle, her name had been whispered over the rims of glasses and behind gloved hands. That was Maka Albarn standing over there, the daughter of the most successful bootlegger in Death City. She stood out in the midst of her friends. Her legs were longer than a mile, and her dress seemed to be short, even by a flapper's standards. She was easy to spot however, because her blonde hair was long, trailing past her shoulders.
And Maka Albarn was staring at Soul with a look that could only be described as predatory.
Soul tried to swallow, and turned back to the bar. The Speakeasy that Wes had dragged him too was actually one of the nicer juice joints Soul had ever seen. The lights were dim, almost nonexistent, and it made him glad to know that no one would really recognize who he was. He and his brother were from a family of old money, both of them had brought back war medals, for reasons they both didn't understand, and at the moment, they were both single.
Every woman in the city was trying to vying for the chance to slip a ring on one of those boys.
Soul chanced another look around the club, and found his brother sitting at a table with a group of friends, cigars stuck firmly in their mouths. Wes felt his brother's stare and looked over, waving his hand to invite him over. Soul smiled and shook his head, he was just fine drinking alone in the dark.
In front of him, Soul watched a hand wrap around his little shot of rum, and disappear, the shot glass being slammed back down on the table empty. His eyes followed the arm the hand was attached too until Maka Albarn's face smiled back at him, and he froze.
Those were the greenest fucking eyes he had ever seen.
It had been a while since Soul had really seen anything green. In the city, everything was multicolored glass and people; dark, industrial greys and stark, wealthy whites dominated over the streets. In the trenches, there wasn't anything green. Just mud, and mold, and death, nothing even came close to the green staring back at him. She smiled at him while she licked the remaining rum off her lips. "What's eatin' you Mac?"
"You're in a club, surrounded by girls who got It, and they're all fried to the hat, and you're sitting here, brooding."
"So?" Soul frowned, and motioned for the bartender refill his shot, glanced at the woman at his side, and motioned for two. She smiled at him again.
"So soldier, why don't you go have some fun?"
Soul blinked before her words caught up with him. "You think I'm here looking to get with someone?"
"Now he's on the trolley!" Maka laughed as the bartender set their shots in front of them.
"Sorry Ms. Albarn, but that's not why I'm here."
"You know who I am?"
"Everyone knows who you are." He smirked at her. "Just like you know who I am."
The cheerful look on her face fell a little, and her smirk was just as dark as his. "Awh, Mr. Evans, it's no fun if you don't play the game."
Soul threw his shot back and sighed. "I don't like games, Ms. Albarn."
"Everybody likes my games soldier." She smirked and downed her shot after him, pink tongue coming to trace her lips once again. "Don't be a wet blanket."
"I'm not a wet blanket, and I'm not a soldier. I just don't like screwing around."
Maka was quiet for a moment, before her hand shot out and took hold of the green silk tie wrapped around his neck. She tugged it until he was facing her, and she moved in so her lips were barely grazing his. He could feel her breathe against his mouth, and he could smell the rum they had just knocked back. Everything in his head was telling him to run away. Maka Albarn was trouble, and there were at least ten women in this club already approved by his mother that he could satisfy the sudden need with, not the daughter of Spirit Albarn and his mysterious partner. "Don't you wanna play, solider?"
His hand flew from his side, and embedded itself in her long hair, and he pushed his mouth to hers. Her lips molded against his, and he could taste the alcohol that was still there. Maka's tongue pushed against his, and she leaned towards him, hand gripping his tie pulling tighter. She pulled away from him and grinned, before sliding off the barstool, and pulling him with her. She led him into the darkness, and he could only follow.
Maka wasn't actually one for playing games.
She slammed the younger Evans brother against the wall in the speakeasy, and attached her mouth to his neck. Her teeth bit down on the tanned skin, and he moaned, his hands fixed on her hips, which she ground against him.
Her hands were busy, they traveled up his chest, which caused more of a whimper to spill from the young gentleman's lips, rather than the rough moan's she'd been getting. She released his skin from her teeth and looked up at him. His shaggy white hair had fallen into his eyes, which were dark with a look she knew all too well, and his breathing was quick. But he also looked pained. She pressed her hands harder against his chest, and the pain looked a little stronger.
He made her feel bad.
She pulled her hands from his chest, and instead brought one to his hair, and pulled his mouth against hers again, while the other pulled the knot of his tie until she had freed the green fabric from his neck. She held it in her hands, before looking back up at him and wrapping it around her head to replace the headband she had lost somewhere between the start of their little necking session and now. His eyes grew darker when he saw that, and she leaned up to kiss him again. He wrapped his arms around her, and held her against him. She could feel his interest, and his heartbeat, and it disoriented her for a moment, before she remembered that she was supposed to be in control.
This was her game. Soul Evans would not beat her at it.
She pushed away from him, and grabbed his hand again. She pulled him with her, now that he no longer had the tie to be led by, until she brought them to a dead end. She felt around the dark wood of the wall for the little handle. Once she found it, she gave it a twist, and a few of the panels pushed inwards, showing Soul one of the rooms where the owner of the joint snuck in the alcohol. "How did you know about this place?" He asked, breath starting to regulate again.
"Girl's gotta know where she does business." Maka answered before pulling him in and shutting the door. Once again, she shoved him against the door, rubbing her tongue against his as their lips moved in tandem. She went to pop the buttons on his shirt, but his hands shot from her hips to catch both of her wrists in his hands, and he gripped them. "What?"
"Not your shirt? What?" She raised an eyebrow at him, but all she got as an answer was red painting across his face. "Alright then Mac, no worries." She leaned up to kiss him again, and he released her wrists. Maka bit down on his lip hard, causing him to gasp, before she released him, and dropped down to her knees. "Make sure you stay real quiet now soldier."
"Soul." He growled down at her as she worked his belt buckle open. She paused, and looked up at him, the green in her eyes playing off the green tie wrapped around her. "My name is Soul."
"So use it."
"Alright then, Soul." She grinned as she tugged his slacks down, and freed him. He gasped, nails digging into the wall. "Make sure you stay real quiet." His red eyes flashed at her demand, but she only brought out her tongue, and trailed it from the bottom of his dick, to the head, where she pressed a kiss. The growl that spilled from his mouth shocked her, and aroused her more than she wanted to think about. This wasn't for emotion, this was fun, and this was a game. She greatly enjoyed bringing powerful people down a few levels, and the last name Evans made Soul a very powerful person. But he was also pretty good at throwing her off. He didn't act like he was anything important.
She didn't like being thrown off.
She brought one hand up to pump him slowly, while her mouth worked at marking his hip. Her teeth scraped against his hipbone, and Soul growled again. "What kind of game are you playing!?" His words barely passed clenched teeth. She grinned against his skin, before licking her lips again, green eyes on his.
"You don't remember how to have fun, do you soldier?"
He opened his mouth to correct her about calling him that again, but her mouth had engulfed him, and any words he had been trying to say came out in a condensed mess of vowels and consonants that maybe had once been words, but were now just praise for Maka in a language only he could understand.
Maka sucked harder, and began bobbing her head up and down on his dick, her hand taking care of anything she couldn't cover. Soul wasn't even trying to attempt to be quiet, his whispered swears and snarls were only gaining fervor the faster she moved. She loved it, loved how he gripped the wall, rather than trying to grip her hair, and shove her down farther. She loved how his voice seemed to break every time she ran her tongue under the head, loved how she could glance up and his eye would still be on hers. She loved how the muscles in his legs trembled.
And that worried her.
She went faster, listening to his pleas and encouragement. He wasn't going to last much longer, she could tell in the way his breathing sped up, so she hummed around him, and the poor man didn't know what to do with himself. One hand finally left the wall and came to wrap into her hair, but he didn't shove her down on him like he'd been expecting. Instead, he just held onto her while she continued, and his clenched teeth finally parted.
"M-Maka move, I'm gonn-gonna come."
Instead, she only worked him harder, and he warned her through her moans once more. Finally, he was good on his word, and came. She tried to take him in farther, and he filled her mouth with the bitter end, but she only looked up at him, and swallowed him like she would a shot, before pulling off and licking her lips. He stared down at her, mouth open, breathing heavily and she just blinked at him. He grabbed her and pulled up back up to him, and kissed her, hard.
Once again he'd thrown her for a loop. No man would usually be willing to kiss her after, especially when she swallowed. But, as Soul Evans seemed hell bent on proving, he wasn't any man. She could feel her heart warm up to the sentiment, and she knew she had to get out of there, fast. She pushed away from him, fixed her headband, and smiled.
"See you around, Evans."
Then she slipped from his grip and she was gone.
YES I finally got to do my historical AU
Also, this was written for day 1 of Soma NSFW week! And tomorrow will be part 2, and supposedly the final, so long as inspiration doesn't strike it down.
Hope you liked the smut!