In which I'm a lazy asshole who still hasn't finished SoMa NSFW Week (and probably won't) even though it's already been a month. Here's a drabble thing while I go and study for exams. *sobs*

Anyway, enjoy!

Wait, this isn't my house.

Maka warily slid a foot out of the teletransporter pad and threw a quick glance around the dark room, knowing that even if she was in the wrong location the pad would take a few hours to recharge. The easiest solution was, of course, to find a door and see where she had landed, but you never know where these things take you when they malfunction. She could have ended up somewhere in North Korea for all she knew.

Only, she didn't.

A hand shot out of nowhere to grasp her arm, light suddenly inundating every corner of the moderately large room. Maka recognized it as the type of studio college students usually rented when they couldn't afford the dorms, all necessities included in the single room and no doors in sight. It was the kind of room you couldn't share with anyone unless there was a very high degree of intimacy or indifference, since there was absolutely no privacy to be had.

And she had just intruded on that kind of privacy, as shown by the glowering face of the stranger who had a hold of her upper arm.

"Not to say that I don't like pretty girls suddenly appearing out of nowhere," he said, the rich, low baritone of his voice sending a shiver down her spine. "But who the fuck are you and what are you doing here?"

She already had her mouth open to answer in one of her classic witty remarks when she registered the state of clothing her captor was in.

Or rather, unclothing.

Oh, she mused distractedly. Probably should have noticed that earlier.

He was good-looking, she accessed, but in a way that her friends probably wouldn't agree with that statement, since his looks were nowhere near the type they usually went for. Maka supposed he had some form of albinism in his genes, but seeing as he was actually pretty tanned – and toned, she couldn't help but notice, eyes drawn to the large scar that crossed the muscled planes of his chest -, she would have wagered he had dyed his hair hadn't... uhhh… the curtain matched the drapes.

Her eyes quickly snapped back up, face burning. He raised an eyebrow.

She felt that the temperature of her face could easily rival that of the sun.

"T-transporter malfunction," she managed to stammer out. "Got sent to the wrong address."

He smirked, and from the space between his lips – he has really nice lips, she noticed dreamily, the kind she'd like to nibble on and play with for a while – there were flashes of white teeth. White teeth that were impossibly sharp, and might or might not resemble a shark's.

She wondered then if she possibly had a sexual attraction to sharks, or just snarky naked strangers that have some resemblance to them. Probably the second one. She didn't remember her panties getting flooded the last time she had seen a documentary on marine wildlife.

She kind of wanted him to bite her. For science.

"I'm Maka," she blurted out. "Maka Albarn. Sorry for intruding."

His smirk widened into a grin. "I'm Soul."

Yup, getting bitten by him was definitely a thing that should definitely happen. She added "getting bitten all over by hot naked near-strangers named Soul" to her list of previously unknown fetishes-slash-fantasies (she had way too few of them to make separate lists, a fact that her roommate Blair found disgraceful – 'shut up, Blair, not everyone can be a closet sadomasochist like you', she'd said at the time, but considering that sharp teeth appeared to be her thing she was on the fast lane to hypocrisy). Maka tried to shut down that line of thought to the best of her ability before she did something stupid - like offer her neck to him and telling him to bite her or something.

Soul looked extremely amused. "Did you just ask me to bite you?"

Shit.

She had actually said that out loud. Forget the sun, supernovas had nothing on her face. And ears. And neck. And the top of her chest. Which is to say, Maka was nearly halfway to becoming a big red balloon – or you know, not a big red balloon, just something big and red and more resistant to the heat of supernovas than balloons, because those kind of exploded after being exposed to heat. She really had to think up better analogies.

He took her redness as a yes.

"Well," he said, grin wide so that all of his teeth were showing. "We still have a few hours before the pad is recharged. And my clothes are already off.

Maka had a feeling that she would end up praising teletransporter pads malfunctions after the night was over. And guess what?

She was right.