AN: This was originally going to be a later chapter of "Breaking Point," but it sort of evolved into its own thing. It can be read as a one-shot, but it probably helps to have some background.
Contains CroMa, angst, and Ragnarok cussing like a drunken sailor.
"Eh-excuse me…"
The librarian looked up. A tall, skinny young man—or was it a girl?—stood in front of her desk, clutching his arm so hard that his knuckles had whitened. Messy pink bangs hung in his eyes.
"Hello," the librarian said, adjusting her glasses. "Can I help you?"
"Um, I was l-looking for…th-that is…" He gulped, cheeks flushed. "I wondered if you had…um…" He fidgeted, squirming around and wiggling his thin shoulders as if his black robe—or was it a dress?—was filled with ants. She could see beads of sweat forming on his brow, and she wondered what sort of question could possibly make him this nervous.
"Yes?" she said, smiling politely.
"D-d-do you have any books about sex?" he blurted out. By now, his face was completely red.
Ah, so that was it. "Of course," she chirped. "Are you looking for something more informational, or more in the realm of, ah—entertainment?"
"Um…" He bowed his head and held his arms shyly against his chest, hands curled into fists. "E-either, I guess."
The gesture was so feminine that the librarian changed her initial assessment. A girl, she thought. A very shy girl. She was probably looking for something titillating, but was too timid to admit it.
The librarian suppressed a chuckle and stood. "Follow me." She led the girl to the back of the library, where the romance novels were shelved. "Looking for anything in particular?"
"No." Her gaze darted back and forth. "N-not really."
"In that case, do you want some recommendations?"
"S-s-sure."
She'd already read most of them herself—working at the library was pretty dull, so she had plenty of time on her hands—and she knew which books were the steamiest. She began plucking them off the shelves and handing them to the pink-haired girl. "These are my favorites. You can check out as many as you want, just make sure you return them in five days."
"Th-thank you."
Chrona sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the flimsy paperback in his hands. The Pirate's Concubine. On the cover, a pretty red-haired woman swooned in the arms of a muscular man. The man wasn't wearing a shirt, and the woman's dress looked like it was about to slide off.
Chrona took a deep breath and opened the book.
He didn't normally read things like this. Just having a book like this made him nervous. But he needed to learn about…that. About sex.
The books Dr. Stein had given him were dry and clinical and mostly about reproduction and internal organs. They didn't tell him anything about what to do when the time came, beyond the bare basics. So he'd gone to the library.
Now he had a stack of paperbacks with titles like Captured Princess and Red-hot Cowboy and The Vampire's Kiss. A lot of those books seemed to be about vampires. He didn't understand that. Vampires were supposed to be scary, weren't they?
He turned a page.
When young and rebellious Delilah stowed away on board the Seahorse, the very last thing she expected was for the ship to be taken over by a band of pirates. But here she was, bound and gagged, with coarse ropes digging into the swells of her generous, heaving breasts.
She knew, now, that she should never have left home. But the lure of the sea had overtaken her, and she'd snuck away in the dead of night to board a ship—
Ragnarok peered down over the top of his head. He pointed one tiny, ball-like hand at the book. "This is boring. Skip ahead to the good stuff!" He reached down and flipped through the pages.
"Hey, that stuff might be important…"
"Come on, do you think anyone reads these things for the plot? Oh, here we go."
As Chrona skimmed through the paragraphs, his cheeks started to grow warm.
"Take your hands off me, you beast!" Delilah cried. To her mortification, she could feel her nipples stiffening under her lacy brassiere, and heat pooled between her thighs, moistening her folds.
The pirate smirked. "A spoiled rich girl like you needs to be taught a lesson. Perhaps a spanking?"
This was making Chrona...uncomfortable was too mild a word, really. But he forced himself to keep reading. As he turned another page, his hands started to tremble. His palms had grown moist with sweat, and a hard knot of tension had lodged itself somewhere between his stomach and heart.
Ragnarok cackled. "This is some funny shit. 'Imposing bulge of manhood?' What a weird-ass way of saying 'dick!'"
"Ragnarok…I'm trying to…"
"Creamy globes? Why don't they just say 'tits?' Oh, here's a good one. 'Pouting nether-lips.'"
Chrona's mouth had gone dry. He tried to keep reading, but he didn't understand half of what was happening in that scene, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. He also didn't understand why the people in the scene were doing something like this when they seemed to hate each other.
He closed the book, set it aside, and picked up another one.
"Aw man, it was just getting good!"
Chrona ignored him and opened The Temptress. He started to read, but Ragnarok reached down and started flipping pages again.
"Hey—"
"We're doing research, right? Just skip to the sex."
Raven bucked like an unbroken colt as Anthony thrust a hot, eager hand under her skirt and caressed her pulsing mound through her now drenched panties. He yanked them off, and moments later, she was screaming in ecstasy as he stroked her pearl of pleasure. The velvet ropes rubbed at her wrists as she struggled to free herself. "Beg me to fuck you," he growled.
Ragnarok snickered. "Real smooth talker, that guy. And these were all the librarian's favorites. Who knew librarians were so kinky?"
"Sh-she was just trying to help." Chrona continued to skim over the way-too-graphic descriptions, stomach clenched so tight it was starting to hurt. He didn't know how to deal with this.
He put down the book and picked up another. Again, Ragnarok made him skip right to the sex scenes.
Drake's fangs sank into her neck as Devin's sharp claws scraped along her sides. Rough hands pinned her wrists down as Drake's hips ground against hers, her slick flesh tight as a glove around him, while meanwhile, Devin's thick rod pumped in and out of her—
"A threesome with a vampire and a werewolf?" Ragnarok said. "Man, Pervy Librarian's got some weird tastes."
The cold steel manacles rubbed against her wrists as she panted, sweat dripping between her heaving—
She screamed in a mixture of pleasure and pain as he thrust his swollen member into her dripping—
It was all like that. Naked sweaty people doing naked sweaty things, grinding and thrusting and there was no tenderness, and…
He couldn't do this.
Chrona pushed all the books aside, went into the bathroom, shut the door, and locked it.
"Hey, why'd you stop?" Ragnarok said. "Are you gonna jack off or something? Hey, do it once for me, will ya?"
Chrona ignored him.
He needed something more confined than the corner, so he sat at one end of the bathtub, drew the shower curtain closed, and huddled into a little ball, arms wrapped around his knees. His rapid breathing echoed through the silence.
These books were not helping. They were not helping at all. They were filled with weird words that made it hard to tell what was going on—what was a "pearl of pleasure?" What was a "pulsing mound?"—and the people in them argued and said mean things, and somehow that never stopped them from having sex. With ropes and handcuffs and spanking and lots of fluids gushing all over the place and...
Was that really what it was like? When he tried to think about himself and Maka in those situations, it seemed all wrong. Besides, the men in those books were all confident and aggressive and knew exactly what they were doing. They never cried or got scared, and they were all huge and covered with muscles. In other words, they were the exact opposite of Chrona in every imaginable way.
It felt like a huge hand was squeezing his heart. Dr. Stein had reassured him over and over that he couldn't die from a panic attack, it just felt like he was dying. But that didn't stop Chrona from visualizing his own heart exploding inside his chest.
He closed his eyes, dizzy, and focused on trying to slow his breathing. Gradually, the crushing pressure in his chest loosened. But his thoughts were a confused whirl.
He and Maka were a couple now. And even if they hadn't really talked about it, being a couple meant doing certain things somewhere down the line. That knowledge had been floating in the back of his head ever since they confessed their feelings for each other.
He wanted her—he thought about her, dreamed about her, ached for her touch—yet the thought of actually doing anything terrified him. So many things could go wrong. He didn't want anything to go wrong. It was too important. If they ever did it, it would be Maka's first time too, so it needed to be special. Perfect.
If he did something wrong and ruined it for her, he'd never forgive himself.
Chrona had been alone for most of his life. He'd never thought he'd have the chance to do something like this; never imagined that he'd have friends, much less someone who was willing to get this close to him. He wondered sometimes if he was in over his head, if he'd never been meant to have this kind of relationship with someone—if he was just too different, too broken.
He wondered when Maka would realize that and leave him.
The invisible hand was gripping his heart again, using it as a stress ball. He clutched his chest, trying to breathe past the crushing tightness.
Ragnarok settled atop his hair. "What are you freaking out about? They're just smut-books."
"I d-don't know what to do, Ragnarok. I'm not…I can't…" He gasped for breath. "How am I ever going to do that with her?"
"Tch." Ragnarok settled atop his hair. "This is Maka we're talking about. Once she gets tired of waiting, she'll probably just pin you down and do whatever she wants."
Chrona's face reddened. "Sh-she wouldn't," he murmured. Maka was tough when she needed to be, but with Chrona she was always gentle and warm. She wasn't going to act like…well, like the men in those books.
Though if it was Maka, maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Having the responsibility taken out of his hands, feeling her touch, not having to worry about whether he was doing something wrong, just relaxing and trusting her…
But that wouldn't be fair to Maka. She probably wouldn't like it if he just lay there like a dead fish and let her do everything. And more than anything, he wanted to please her, to make it good for her. That was the whole reason he was trying to learn about this.
"Hey." Ragnarok yanked on his ear. "Aren't you jumping the gun a little, anyway? You two haven't even talked about fucking yet."
Chrona winced. "Don't say that word. I hate it." It sounded so harsh, so…animalistic.
Of course, it was Ragnarok's favorite word, and being reminded of how much Chrona hated it just made him use it more. "Fuckity-fuck-fuck fuckity-fuck."
"Cut it out."
Ragnarok started singing to the tune of Ave Maria. "Fuuuuck, fucking fuuuuckers fuuuuck…"
Chrona shoved a hand over his mouth, trying to silence him. Ragnarok flailed his arms and kept singing, his voice muffled.
Someone knocked on the bathroom door, and Chrona gave a start. He still wasn't used to living with so many other people. Even when he'd lived with Medusa, he'd hardly ever seen her—she'd usually ignored him when she wasn't forcing him to kill things—and now he was sharing a place with Soul, Maka and Blair. Even if he had his own room, the apartment often felt crowded…particularly since there was only one bathroom.
"Oi," Soul called from the other side of the door. "You've been in there for ages. Did you drown or something?"
"I-I'm…I'm just…"
"He's fine!" Ragnarok shouted. "He's just scared of fucking Maka."
Chrona gave a start. "Ragnarok!" he hissed.
Ragnarok snickered and vanished into his back.
A long pause. "Uh, Chrona?"
Chrona didn't want to come out, but he knew he couldn't keep hiding in here. Soul probably needed to use the bathroom. Embarrassed, he stepped out of the bathtub, opened the door and stood clutching his arm, unable to meet Soul's gaze. "G-go ahead." He stepped into the hall, still gripping his arm tightly.
Soul stared at him with a slight frown. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "I probably shouldn't ask about what Ragnarok just said, should I? Not really my business if you and Maka are planning to, um—yeah. Just make sure you use a rubber."
Chrona blinked. A what? Where did he get something like that?
A wave of helpless anxiety washed over him. His instincts told him to retreat to his room and hide, but he hadn't learned anything helpful from those books, and Soul probably knew more about this than he did.
"Um…Soul…" Chrona's gaze darted back and forth. "H-h-have you ever…"
Silence.
Panic fluttered in Chrona's chest. Had he made Soul angry? "Sorry. I sh-shouldn't—I just—I d-don't know anything, and I thought—"
"It's okay. It just...feels a little weird to talk about it, y'know?" Another awkward silence. Chrona still couldn't bring himself to look at Soul's expression. "I haven't really...done anything like that yet."
"Oh."
"There are books about that sort of thing, though."
"I know. I got some of them from the library, but…they just made me more confused."
Soul frowned slightly. "What kind of books?"
"B-books with pirates and cowboys, and…and vampires." He finally chanced a glance at Soul's expression.
Soul looked utterly bewildered. "Pirates and…wait, you mean like romance novels?"
"If that's what they're called." There hadn't been much romance in them, though. Just sex. Lots and lots of sex. "I just…I don't know how to deal with this."
Soul's frown deepened. "You know those aren't real, right? I mean, they're fantasies. People—mostly women, I guess—just read them for fun."
Chrona's blush—which was beginning to feel like a permanent fixture—grew hotter. "I know they're only stories, but…I th-thought maybe they would help. Just to give me some idea."
"Oh. Well…I guess it's a start, but real sex isn't much like porn. And if you want to know how to deal with Maka, that's probably the wrong place to look. She hates those kinda books."
"She does?"
"Yeah, she calls them 'bodice-rippers.' I got her one as a gag gift for her last birthday, and she used it to Maka Chop me across the room." He grimaced. "She really can't take a joke."
Somehow, that made Chrona feel a little better. Maybe Maka didn't know how to deal with those books either. "S-so, um…if I w-wanted to learn about…about that…what should I…"
Soul folded his arms behind his head and looked off to the side. "I'm probably the wrong person to ask about this kind of thing. But it should just come naturally once the time is right…right?"
Chrona lowered his gaze. "I guess so." But he didn't really believe that. Maybe for normal people it came naturally, but Chrona wasn't normal and he never would be. Soul probably had no idea just how not normal he was. "Sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
"It's okay." Another awkward pause. "Have you talked about this with Maka? I mean, have you told her you're worried about it?"
Chrona hesitated. "No." He didn't like burdening her with worry. Maka had already done so much for him; it didn't seem fair to keep coming to her with his endless problems and fears. And something like this—he wasn't supposed to be scared about this. How could he admit it to her? "You…you think I should?"
Soul considered for a moment, then said, "I think that's probably a better idea than trying to learn about sex by reading pirate smut."
The front door creaked open, and Maka's voice called out, "I'm home!"
Chrona tensed.
Soul gave him an awkward clap on the shoulder and said, "Stay cool, okay?"
"Okay," he murmured.
It was Soul's turn to make dinner, and he always made curry, because that was one of the few things he could cook without burning. Chrona picked at his food, too nervous to eat much.
Later, he scrounged up his courage and asked Maka if she wanted to go for a walk.
"Sure," Maka said. She tilted her head, studying his face. "Is everything okay?"
He nodded without looking up. "F-fine." If he was going to talk to her about this, it was probably better to do it someplace they could be completely alone. He'd spoken with Ragnarok after dinner, in his bedroom, and made him promise that he wouldn't come out during their conversation—and that he wouldn't tell Maka about those books, either. Hopefully, nothing would interrupt them.
Maka linked hands with him, fingers sliding easily and naturally between his, and they left the apartment.
They walked down to the park, still holding hands, and sat in the shade of a big tree. The sun hung low in the orange-stained skies, drooling. Insects hummed around them.
She was eating a nectarine she'd brought with her from the apartment. He watched from the corner of his eye as she bit into the fruit's soft flesh.
She noticed him watching, smiled, and offered it to him. He hesitated, then took a tiny bite from the same place her mouth had touched. His gaze focused on her lips. They were wet with juice, and he wondered if they'd taste sweet. A blush crept into his cheeks, and he looked away.
"Chrona, do you want to kiss me?" she asked.
He tensed. "I…th-that is…"
"It's okay, you know." Her voice was gentle, playful.
He knew it was okay. She kept telling him. But still, he always hesitated, always doubted.
So far, they hadn't done anything except kiss and cuddle, usually in Maka's room or his own, because Chrona was still too shy to do things like that anywhere they might be seen. Everything still felt so new, so fragile, like it might break if he looked at it the wrong way.
More than anything, he didn't want to ruin this. He tried to ignore the little voice in his head that kept telling him it wouldn't last, that it was just a dream, that it would all collapse around him sooner or later.
He started to lean forward and stopped, looking into her eyes. Their faces were just an inch apart, so close he couldn't focus, and all he saw was green.
Maka reached up, slid her fingers into his hair, and closed the distance between them.
She tasted like nectarines. Somehow, he found the courage to swipe the very tip of his tongue over her lips, and they parted. Her mouth was warm, sweet and wet. His hands tentatively settled onto her shoulders and slid down her back to rest against the inward curve of her waist. She made a low hum of approval.
Her lips left his, and she kissed the curve of his jaw. A tiny moan slipped past his lips as she pressed another kiss to the racing pulse in his throat. Dizziness washed over him, and he closed his eyes, drunk on her touch, her scent.
She placed a hand against his chest, fingers splayed. He tensed, then relaxed and allowed her to push him down to the grass, onto his back. His heart beat hard and fast against her palm as she leaned down to kiss him again. The nectarine slipped from her fingers and fell to the grass, and she placed both hands against his slim chest, holding him there.
Ragnarok's words echoed in his mind: Once she gets tired of waiting, she'll probably just pin you down and do whatever she wants.
His chest tightened in a spasm of panic.
She rubbed his shoulder, kneading tight muscles. "Relax," she whispered, her lips moving against his. "It's okay. I promise."
Chrona breathed, released the fear, and felt his muscles loosening.
He trusted her.
Maka stretched out on the grass beside him. His eyes slipped shut as her lips pressed against his again. She pulled back a little and kissed his eyelids. It was a strange feeling, when she did that; it made him think back to his lessons with Medusa, how his mother had always told him to aim for a person's eyes in battle, because eyes were vulnerable and soft and close to the brain. Even if the first slash didn't kill, it would blind them and make them helpless so they could be easily disemboweled or decapitated. Never let anyone get near your eyes, she'd told him.
Yet somehow, it felt nice when Maka kissed his eyelids. Maybe because he knew she wouldn't hurt him.
Her lips found his earlobe and sucked at it softly, making him twitch with surprise. They were out in the open, where someone could walk by and see them. Worry kept tugging at his mind, distracting him, but it was hard to think when his senses were filled with Maka. He raised his hand, shyly stroked her silky hair, and wrapped one of her pigtails around his finger as the tip of his tongue touched hers.
Then it started happening again. That tightness, that ache between his legs. That wanting.
Chrona's muscles stiffened. His lips tensed beneath hers, and he froze.
For a moment, she kept kissing him, and he found himself wondering how far she would go if he just lay here without resisting. Maybe it would just happen.
No, what was he thinking? There was no way—
Maka pulled back, one gloved hand still resting against his chest. Her hair hung down, tickling his cheek, and her eyes were warm and gentle, soft green pools filled with concern. "Chrona? What's wrong?"
"N-nothing." The word escaped him as a breathless squeak.
A tiny furrow appeared between her brows, and the worry in her eyes deepened. Gently, she framed his face between her gloved hands. Her thumbs stroked his cheeks. "Do you want to stop for now?"
Chrona could feel the warmth and pressure of her fingers through the gloves. He gulped, his throat tight as he stared into her eyes.
What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he keep going? His body wanted it, his flesh throbbed and cried out for it, but despite the need there was this fear, this deep gut-wrenching fear of what would happen after this. What if he lost control? What if the madness inside him took over?
He had nightmares, sometimes—dreams where he and Maka were in bed and they started to take off their clothes, then everything went black and he awakened within the dream to find her literally ripped apart, green eyes glassy in death, blood staining the walls and bed.
He had other dreams as well, dreams which ended in humiliation and Maka looking at him with disappointment and disgust. Those weren't as scary as the ones where he killed her, but they left him feeling like his guts had been ripped out and stomped on. The idea of losing this, losing her…
Chrona knew and accepted that his sanity rested in a pair of strong, gentle, white-gloved hands. If he lost Maka, he lost everything. He would fall back into the dark, lonely hell she'd pulled him out of; the madness would consume him.
He couldn't risk it.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Maka took his hand in hers and squeezed it. "There's nothing to apologize for."
But he knew she must be frustrated, even if she didn't show it. Unlike him, she was healthy and whole and unafraid of her desires, and she deserved someone strong and unbroken, someone who could respond to her normally.
He hated himself for not being that.
Maka's fingers slid into his hair, and she rubbed his scalp in tiny circles. A pleasant little shiver ran through Chrona, and the tension eased out of his muscles. He remembered hearing somewhere that rubbing a person's scalp released endorphins. He wondered if that was why he felt so much calmer when she was touching him like this.
He reached up, sliding his fingers into her wheat-colored hair, and tentatively rubbed her head, trying to duplicate the movements. For awhile they just lay side by side in the grass, looking at each other.
"You've had something on your mind, haven't you?"
Chrona lowered his gaze, self-conscious. The silence stretched on. At last, quietly, he asked, "Do you ever get tired of me being…like I am?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean…scared of everything." He swallowed, his throat tight. "It doesn't seem fair to you."
She studied his face. Her gaze was gentle and steady, like sunlight, and he found himself thinking about that time her soul had touched his—that deep, penetrating warmth, spreading through the barren emptiness of his own soul. "I like you the way you are, Chrona."
"I just don't understand…wh-why someone like you would want to be with me. I mean…you're so perfect, and I'm—"
Maka giggled.
Chrona blinked at her. "M-Maka?"
"Sorry." She grinned. "I'm not laughing at you. It's just that 'perfect' isn't a word most people would use to describe me. Have you ever heard them talking about me at school? I've got quite a reputation, and it's not all good."
"B-but…people will say things that aren't true."
"It is true, what they say about me. I'm self-righteous, self-important, violent, stubborn, demanding, and I have a short fuse."
Chrona's eyes grew wide. "But you're not like that at all!"
"Not with you, maybe. You bring out my best self. But trust me, most of the time, I'm a royal pain."
He shook his head fervently. "I don't know how you could think those things about yourself. You're the kindest person I've ever met."
She smiled, but there was a shadow in her eyes. "It's easier for people to be kind when they've grown up with all the advantages I've had. I mean, my childhood wasn't the greatest, but I still had two parents who cared about me and did their best to keep me happy." Her gaze wandered away.
Chrona wanted to say that things hadn't been easy for her, either. But he never mentioned the fact that Maka's mother had abandoned her. Maka didn't like it when people talked about that. "It's still kindness and it still matters," he said instead. "No one has ever been as nice to me as you are. Even when I do terrible things, you forgive me without a thought."
"You're easy to forgive. I can't help myself." She ran her thumb lightly over his knuckles. "To tell the truth, I think you're a kinder person than I am."
Chrona looked at her, utterly mystified. When had he ever been kind?
As if reading his mind, she said, "You're kind in a way that most people don't notice, because you don't draw attention to it. You hide so much pain to avoid worrying anyone else. Even when you're falling apart, you keep it locked inside. I know that the reason you tried to leave Shibusen was because you didn't want to hurt the people you cared about anymore."
He didn't say anything. He didn't want to contradict her. But he knew she was giving him too much credit. He'd left because he was scared and miserable and confused, that was all. Sure, he hadn't wanted to keep betraying his friends, but if he wasn't such a weak person he would have just confessed his crimes instead of running away...
"You thought it would break my heart if I found out what you'd done. You were trying to protect me from that, even if it meant leaving the only place you'd ever been happy."
…how did she do that? "B-but still…I shouldn't have…"
"Of course you shouldn't have. But even good people make mistakes."
He wasn't a good person, she only saw him that way because she saw the good in everyone. He knew that. But he was grateful for those words, anyway.
They were like night and day. Yet somehow they had become friends, then more than friends. Could it possibly last? His darkness and her light?
"Chrona?"
He stared down at their intertwined fingers. "I want this," he whispered. "I want to be with you. I want to be everything you need. But—" Tears gathered in his eyes, and he blinked them away. "I don't know if I can."
She frowned. It always made him anxious when she did that, though he knew it was just concern. "What do you mean?"
His cheeks flushed a deeper red, and he lowered his face, hair falling in his eyes.
Soul had told him that he should talk to her about this. Chrona knew he was right. Maka was Maka, after all; she wouldn't judge him or think it was silly. Still, it was difficult to admit, difficult to put words to something so shameful. His voice dropped to a faint, almost inaudible whisper. "I'm afraid of…that."
"Of what?"
"You know," he murmured, cheeks burning. "That."
Her brows knitted together. Realization dawned in her eyes. "Sex?"
He gave a tiny nod. "I…I kn-know we're not going to do anything like that right away, but…I th-thought…p-people usually do things like that when they're a couple. Don't they?"
"Yes." Her voice had gone quiet and unreadable, and he wondered if he'd made a mistake in bringing it up, if he'd upset her somehow. His heartbeat quickened.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"
"It's okay," Maka said. "There's no rush, you know. This is still new to both of us."
"But it's strange to be scared of something like that. Isn't it?"
"It's not strange. It's normal to be nervous if you've never done it before. Besides…" She stroked his cheek. "This gives us something to look forward to. Good things are worth waiting for, aren't they?"
"Th-then…you want to? Someday, I mean."
Her expression turned serious. "Yes. I want to." Her gaze searched his. "Do you?"
He saw the sudden uncertainty, the hint of insecurity in her expression. "Yes! I do, I want it, I want you, I—" He fell silent, heat flooding his face again as he realized just what he'd said. "I—I j-just—"
The tension smoothed out of her expression. "Would it help to talk about it?"
He sat up and hugged his knees to his chest. Maka sat beside him and waited. His gaze focused on the ground near his feet, where an ant was crawling along a grass stalk. The tip of his tongue crept out to moisten his dry lips. "I'm afraid that I'll hurt you by mistake."
"I'm not made of glass. You should know. You've fought me before. After all the blood we've drawn from each other, I'm sure we can handle something like this."
He remembered. He didn't like thinking about that, now—about how badly he'd hurt her and Soul and all the people who were now his friends.
He watched the ant crawl over the grass, onto his shoe. "What if I just…don't do it right?"
He expected her to say that everything would go fine, that he was worried about nothing, that it would just come naturally when the time came. Words of reassurance, words he knew he wouldn't believe, as much as he wanted to.
"Then we'll just keep trying until we figure it out," she said.
He looked up in surprise.
She was staring at him intently. "There's something else." It was a statement, not a question. "What is it?"
He watched the ant crawl up his shoe, onto his robe. "I…" His voice trembled a little.
She waited.
He'd have to tell her at some point—about himself, about what he'd been hiding all this time. But he couldn't. Not now. Chrona looked up and forced a smile. "Nothing."
She studied his face. He felt naked before that calm green gaze.
At last, she gave a small nod. Then she reached out and interlaced her fingers with his. She leaned toward him, rested her head against his shoulder, and kissed his throat. Her lips lingered over his pulse, where the black blood rushed hot and fast beneath the surface, then brushed against his ear. "When you're ready," she said.
Chrona lay in bed, gazing out the window at the grinning moon.
He thought about Maka's lips, how sweet they'd tasted, the way the juice made them shine in the fading sunlight. He thought about her white-gloved hands pushing him gently to the ground, holding him there as they shared their breath.
He sighed and hugged his pillow, nuzzling against it.
Ragnarok emerged from his back and settled atop his head. "So why haven't you tapped that yet? I mean, don't get me wrong, I can't stand her. I think she's a loud-mouthed, flat-chested cow, and she can't even cook worth a crap…"
"Don't talk about her like that."
"…but considering how many nights you've spent fapping…"
He blushed. "Ragnarok…"
"…and whining 'oooh Maka' against your pillow…"
"Don't—"
"I'd think you would jump at the chance to get under that skirt. She obviously wants you. I mean, she practically started molesting you on the grass, and you still won't even kiss her without permission. You're such a pussy, it's unreal."
Chrona didn't respond, just stared at the wall. There was no point in arguing when he agreed. He was a coward. And somehow, Maka wanted him anyway. All his fumbling and trembling and stuttering and hesitation hadn't pushed her away yet.
"Why are you smiling? I just insulted you."
"I know. I was just thinking…even though you're right, she still likes me. Just as I am."
"Tch. She probably gets off on knowing she's got you wrapped around her finger. She's that kind of girl."
"I told you, don't talk bad about Maka."
"You see what I mean?" Ragnarok pulled a lock of his hair. "Don't you remember how much fun we used to have before she pussified you with that glowing soul-hug or whatever the fuck it was? We used to stay out all night hunting tasty souls. Those were the days."
"I never liked killing people, Ragnarok. You know that."
"You liked it a little." He tugged Chrona's hair harder. "Come on, admit it. You liked raising hell. Even if you always were kind of a scaredy-cat, you were still a total bad-ass. Everyone was afraid of us."
Chrona hid his face against the pillow. "I don't like people being scared of me. I only did those things because Medusa ordered me to, and I thought I needed power to deal with other people, but I was wrong. Maka showed me another way." He tried not to think about those days anymore. About the blood, the screams, the madness. But he still had bad dreams. "I'm happier now, here, in Shibusen. I don't want to lose this, and I don't care if you think I'm a pussy for feeling this way. I don't care what anyone thinks, as long as I can be with her."
Ragnarok sighed. "Well, whatever. At least the food here is good." He placed one tiny, ball-like hand on Chrona's shoulder and shook it. "Enough about Pigtails. Crack open one of those smut-books. I want to read about the slutty slutty sluts."
Chrona blinked. "You like those books?"
"Huh? No! I mean, you heard Soul, those books are for chicks. I just think they're funny. Hey, I know, let's skim through one and count all the different ways they say 'pussy.' What was that one line? Something about pouty nether-lips."
"I don't want to read those books. They just confuse me more."
Ragnarok punched his head. "You're no fun, you know that?"
"You can read them on your own if you really want to."
"Well…" He looked away, ping-pong ball eyes swiveling toward the ceiling. "Y'know, it's not like I really want to…"
"It's up to you." Chrona closed his eyes.
Maka had said it was okay to wait. She hadn't judged him or laughed at him or thought he was being stupid.
Maybe it would be okay, after all.
He nestled against his pillow, sighing. With his eyes shut, it was easier to pretend that it was Maka. He thought about lying on the grass with her, breathing in her scent. He imagined the feel of silken skin rubbing against his own, gentle hands sliding over his body…
Chrona drifted off, still hugging his pillow. He dreamed.
In the dream, he was with Maka in a cool blue room, and they were both in bed, naked. He knew what was about to happen. But while most of his sex-dreams were filled with an underlying tension and anxiety, there was none now.
She smiled, her eyes warm and tender, and stroked his cheek. Just relax, she said, and her voice was more in his head than his ears.
Her fingers curled around his wrists, and she didn't seem bothered by the scars. He felt himself slide into her, natural as breathing. Warm velvet enfolded him, warm waves lapped over him.
All their barriers were dissolving. It was just skin against skin, her breath on his neck, his hands in her hair. She was the ocean, and he was drowning, but it was nice, he was underwater and he didn't even need to breathe. The boundaries of their bodies and minds softened, blurring, fading away like lines in the sand.
Ragnarok waited until Chrona was sound asleep. Then he reached over, straining his tiny arms and fumbling until he managed to grab The Pirate's Concubine from the stack of books. He settled onto Chrona's hair, opened the book, flipped to the first sex scene, and began reading intently.
-The End